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THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER 


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From the Rusisian of^Pl'3hkih. 


“ Keep thy honor from thy youth.” 

A By-Word. 


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The Captain’s Daughter., 


CHAPTER I. 

AN ENSIGN IN THE GUARDS, 

My father, Andrew Grinioft, served in his youth under 
Count Minich, and in the year 17 — retired irom the army 
with the rank of lieutenant- major. Since then he lived 
on his estate near Simbirsk, where he married the daugh- 
ter of a country gentleman in the neighborhood. My 
parents had nine children, but all my brothers and sisters 
died in infancy. I had a commission promised me in the 

Semenovsky Kegiment, thanks to Prince B , a near 

relative of ours. I was first to finish my studies. Educa- 
tion at that time was very different to what it is now. 
At five vears of age I was confided to the care of the 
groom, Savielitch, who had been promoted to the office 
of tutor as a reward for his good conduct. Under his 
tutorship I learnt my Russian alphabet (I was then in my 
twelfth year), and was a very good judge of a greyhound. 
At this epoch of my life my father engaged a Frenchman 
for me. Monsieur Beaupre, who was brought from Moscow 
with a yearly cargo of wine and Provence oil. His com- 
ing occasioned great displeasure to Savielitch, who mut- 
tered to himself: Why, the child, thank goodness, is 

washed, combed, and fed; what’s the use of spending 
one’s money on a ^^Mossoo,” as if there were not enough 
of one’s own servants.” Beaupre had been a hairdresser 
in his own country, then a soldier in Prussia, and after 
that came on to Russia to be an ootcheetil (tutor) without 
in the least understanding the meaning of the word. He 
was a good-natured fellow, but thoughtless and licentious 
to a degree. His greatest weakness was his passion for 


4 


THE captain’s daughter. 


the fair sex, and this tenderness of heart gained him many 
kicks and blows, which often made him sigh and groan 
for days together. Nor was he (to use his own expression) 
“an enemy to the bottle,” which, in plain Kassian, meant 
he liked taking a drop too much. Wine was served at 
dinner, but as only one glass was allotted to each person, 
and as it often happened that my tutor’s glass was over- 
looked, Beaupre very soon took to drinking Russian 
brandy, and even began to prefer it to the wines of his 
own country, finding it a deal healthier for the stomach. 
We made friends in no time, and although he was bound 
by agreement to teach me French, German, and all the 
sciences, he thought it better to learn to speak Russian 
of me, and then each of ns went about his business. We 
lived on the best of terms, and I had not the slightest 
wish for another mentor, but fate shortly parted us in the 
following manner. 

The laundress Palashka, a good-looking girl, one day 
fell at my mother’s feet, tearfully complaining that 
“ Mossoo ” had insulted her. My mother at once informed 
my father of the fact; he made sharp work of it, and 
immediately sent to fetch the “rascally Frenchman.” 
He was told that “Mossoo” was engaged in giving me a 
lesson. My father came to my room. 

Beaupre was just then enjoying the sleep of innocence; 
I was very busy. You must know that a map of the 
world had been brought me from Moscow. It was hang- 
ing on the wall, it was of no earthly use, and had for a 
long while been a source of great temptation to me on 
account of its size and the excellent quality of its paper. 
I resolved to make a kite of it, and taking advantage of 
Beaupre’s sleep 1 commenced operations. My father 
entered the room just as I was tying a string to the Cape 
of Good Hope. On witnessing my geographical occupa- 
tion he pulled my ears, rushed at Beaupre, awoke him 
most unceremoniously and overwhelmed him with a shoiver 
of reproaches. In his confusion Beaupre endeavored to 
rise, but could not; the unfortunate Frenchman was dead 
drunk! My father seized him by the collar, kicked him 
out of the room, and the very same day turned him out 
of the house, to the inexpressible delight of Savielitch. 
Thus ended my education. 

I continued to lead the life of a child, chasing pigeons 


THE captain's 1>AUGHTER. 


5 


and playing at leap-frog with all the boys in the yard. 
Meanwhile my sixteenth birthday had come and gone. 
Then my fate changed. One autumn day my mother was 
busy making honey preserves in the parlor wliilst I sat 
licking my lips and watching the boiling honeycombs. 
My father was reading the Court Calendar/’ which he 
received yearly. This book always produced a strange 
effect on him. He read it with extreme interest, and it 
stirred up his bile in a wonderful manner. My mother, 
who knew by heart all his peculiarities and habits, always 
tried to hide this unlucky book whenever she possibly 
could, so that it often happened my father did not set 
eyes on it for months together. But then, if by any 
chance he did find it, he would not let it slip out of his 
hands for hours. And so my father was reading the 
‘‘Court Calendar,” from time to time shrugging his 
shoulders and repeating half aloud: “Lieutenant-general! 
Why he was only a sergeant in my company!” “ A knight 
of both orders of Eussia! W^hy it is not long ago since 

we ” Suddenly my father hurled the calendar at the 

sofa and fell into a brown study which boded no good. 
Presently he turned to my mother: 

“ How old is Peter, Mrs. Grinioff ?” 

“ Close upon seventeen,” answered my mother. “Pet 
was born the very year that Aunt Hastasie became blind 
of one eye and ” 

“ That will do,” interrupted my father; “ it is time he 
entered the service. He has had enough running about 
the maid-servants’ rooms, and scrambling up to pigeon- 
holes.” 

The idea of parting with me so upset my mother that 
she dropped the spoon into the pan, and tears trickled 
down her cheeks. 

His words had a very contrary effect on me, and it would 
bo impossible to describe my delight. The thought of 
entering the army was co-mingled in my mind with dreams 
of liberty and a life of pleasure in St. Petersburg. I al- 
ready imagined myself an ofiScer in the Guards, which in 
my opinion was the height of human happiness. My 
father neither liked to revoke his decisions nor postpone 
their accomplishment. 

The day for my departure was fixed. On the eve of it 


6 


THE captain’s daughter. 


my father stated that he intended to give me a letter to 
my future chief, and asked for pen and paper. 

‘‘Don’t forget,” said my mother, “to give my com- 
pliments to Prince B , and tell him to be kind to my 

Peter.” 

“ What nonsense!” replied my father with a frown. 
“ What have I to write to Prince B for?” 

“ But yon said it was your intention and pleasure to 
write to Pet’s chief.” 

“ Well, what of that?” 

“ Why, Pet’s chief is Prince B , since he is enrolled 

in the Semenovsky Kegiment.” 

“Enrolled! What do I care about his being enrolled, 
indeed! Peter is not going to St. Petersburg. What 
would he learn of discipline in the capital? Spend his 
money and sov/ his wild oats. No! let him go into active 
service, learn to endure hardships, and have a taste of 
powder; in fact, be a soldier and not an idle fop in the 
Guards. Where is his passport? Give it me.” 

My mother looked fdi- my passport, which she always 
kept in a box with my christening robe. She presented 
it to my father with trembling hands. My father read it 
over attentively, spread it out on the table before him 
and began writing his letter. I felt very curious. Where 
was I going to be sent to if not to St. Petersburg? I 
could not take my eyes off my father’s pen, which moved 
somewhat slowly over the paper. At length he finished 
writing, sealed up the passport with his letter in the same 
envelope, took off his spectacles, and beckoning me to 
approach him, said: “ Here’s a letter for General Andrew 

R , my old friend and comrade. You are going to 

Orenburg to serve under his command.” 

And thus all my dearest hopes were blighted! 

I no longer felt rapture at entering the service, but on 
the contrary considered it a heavy trial. Instead of the gay 
life of St. Petersburg, I was doomed to bear a dull hum- 
drum existence in an out of the way place. But protest- 
ing against it was out of the question. Next day the 
traveling heebeetha * drove up to the door. In it were 
packed my trunk, a strong box containing a tea service 
and plate, several parcels of white loaves and pies — the 


* Keebeetka — a kind of tilt-wagon. 


THE CAPTAIH^S DAUGHTER. 


7 


last tokens of home indulgence. My parents blessed me, 
and my father said to me: Good-by, Peter; serve faith- 
fully him to whom you pledge your oath. Obey your 
chiefs; don't cringe to them; don’t be over-anxious for 
promotion, but don’t refuse it when offered; and bear in 
mind the saying: ‘Take care of your dress whilst it’s 
new, and preserve your honor from your youth.’” My 
mother, all in tears, begged me to be careful of my health, 
and commanded Savielitch “ to look after the child.” I 
was wrapped in a hareskin coat, and over that a fox fur. 
I took my place in the keebeetka with Savielitch by my 
side, and started on my journey weeping bitterly. 

I reached Simbirsk the same night, and was obliged to 
stay there four-and -twenty hours for the purchase of 
things I wanted. I stopped at the tavern. Savielitch 
went to the shops early next morning. 

Tired of looking out of window into the dirty by- 
street, I sauntered through the rooms. On entering the 
billiard-room I perceived a tall gentleman of about thirty- 
five years of age, with a long black mustache, attired in 
a dressing-gown, and holding a billiard cue in his hand 
and a pipe in his mouth. He was playing with the 
marker, who drunk off a glass of brandy each time he 
won, and crawled under the billiard* table each time he 
lost. I watched the game for some time. The longer it 
lasted the oftener were repeated the divings under the 
- table, until at length the marker remained there for good. 
The gentleman then spoke a few solemn sentences over 
him, as though he were uttering a funeral oration, and 
turning to me he proposed my playing a game. I refused, 
pleading ignorance. This, to all appearances, he seemed 
to consider very strange. He cast on me a look of pity, 
but nevertheless condescended to converse with me, 
whereby I learnt that his name was John Zourine, that 
he was a captain in a hussar regiment, and was now in 
Simbirsk to enlist recruits. He invited me to dine with 
him, soldier fashion, on whatever luck should send us. 
I consented with pleasure. We sat down to dinner. Zou- 
rine drank a good deal, inviting me to do the same, saying 
that I must get used to the military service. He told 
me many anecdotes of army life, which made me roar 
with laughter, and by the time we rose from table we were 
very good friends indeed. He now offered to teach 


8 


THE CAPTAIJh’S DAUGHTER, 


me to play at billiards,’ which he said was a game every 
soldier ought to know. During a march, for instance, 
when you arrive in a small town, how are you to 
spend your time? Impossible to go on all day thrashing 
the Jews! There’s nothing for it but to go to the tavern 
and have a game at billiards, and in order to play you 
must learn. I felt deeply impressed with this truth, 
and commenced to learn with great diligence. Zourine 
loudly encouraged me, wondered at my rapid progress, 
and after a short time proposed playing for money, merely 
a penny a game; uot for the gain, he said, but simply to 
play for something, as it was the worst possible habit to 
play for nothing. I willingly consented to this, and Zou* 
rine ordered some punch to be brought, persuaded me to 
take some, repeating that I really must get used to the 
military service. What was the service without punch? 
I obeyed. Meanwhile our game went on. The oftener 
I sipped the punch, the more reckless I grew. The balls 
continually flew overboard. 1 grew excited, scolded the 
marker, who was counting all wrong, doubled the stakes, 
in a word behaved exactly like a boy just out of thrall- 
dom. The hours flew quickly by. Zourine looked at the 
clock, put down his cue, and informed me that I had lost 
a hundred rubles, I muttered some excuse or other. 
Zourine interrupted me with: ^*Oh! nevermind; lean 
wait, and meanwhile let us pay a visit to Areenooshka.” 

What more shall I say? I "finished my day as badly as 
I had begun it. We supped with Areenooshka. Zourine 
filled my glass repeatedly, each time reminding me that I 
must get used to the military service. When we rose from 
supper 1 could with difficulty stand on my legs. At mid- 
night Zourine escorted me back to the tavern. Savielitch 
met us on the doorstep, and uttered a cry on seeing the 
too evident proofs of my zeal for the military service! 

‘‘ AVhat is the matter with you, dear Master Peter?” 
he asked in piteous tones. Where did you manage to 
get so tipsy? Oh dear! oh dear! was there ever such a 
sin heard of in my time!” 

Silence, you old fool!” 1 answered with a hiccough. 

You are certainly drunk yourself — go to bed, do.” 

Next Tiiorning I awoke with a headache, recollecting as 
in a maze yesterday’s proceedings and regretting mv zeal 
for the military service. My meditations were cut "short 


THE captai:n’s daughter, 9 

by Saviolitcli, who entered the room with a cup of tea for 
me. 

‘‘ Well, Master Peter,” said he, shaking his head, you 
are beginning early to sow your wild oats! And whom do 
you take after? Not your father or your grandfather, 
they never were drunkards, and nothing stronger than 
kvass'^ has ever passed your mother’s lips. And who is 
the cause of it all? That d — d Mossoo Beaupre, always 
running in to Antipicona. ^Madame, bran d ee, eef you 
pliss! ’ ^luch good he taught you. What was the use of 
that dog of a tutor — a Frenchman! a heretic?” ^ 

I felt ashamed of myself and turned away from him 
saying: Leave me, Savielitch, I don’t want any tea.” 

But it was no easy matter to stop Savielitch’s tongue 
when it had once launched out. You see. Master Peter, 
what the consequences of drinking are: your head feels 
giddy, you have no appetite. A man who drinks is good 
for nothing!” 

At this moment a boy came in bringing me a note from 
Captain Zourine, I opened it and read as follows: 

“ Dy dear Greniofp,— Please send by bearer the hundred 
rubles you lost yesterday at billiards. I am in great need of money. 
Your’s, ready to serve, 

^ John Zourine.” 

There was nothing to be done but to pay. I put on a 
most unconcerned air and turning to Savielitch, who had 
the care of my money, clothes, and actions, I ordered him 
to hand over a hundred rubles to the boy. 

“How! What!” asked the astonished Savielitch. 

“ I owe it,” I replied as coolly as possible. 

“ You owe it I ” continued he, growing more and more 
astonished. “But, sir, when had you the time to con- 
tract this debt? There’s some trickery in this. Do as 
YOU please, sir, but I shall not pay the money.” 

I thought to myself that if I did not at this decisive 
moment get the upperhand of this obstinate old man I 
should never be able later on to shake off his guardian- 
ship, so giving him a proud look, I said: “ I am your 
master, and you are my servant; the money is mine, I lost 

* amost refreshing Russian beverage made of flour, malt, 

and water. 


10 


THE captain’s daughter. 


it because I so willed it. I order you to obey me and not 
to reason about the matter.” 

Savielitch was so astounded at my words and manner 
that he clasped his hands and stood rooted to the spot. 

Well, why don’t you go?” I shouted angrily. 

Savielitch burst into tears. 

Master Peter, my dear young sir!” he tremulously 
exclaimed; ‘Mon’t kill me with grief, but listen to the 
advice of an old man: Write to this scoundrel ^hat you 
were but jesting, that yon have no such sum of money to 
pay. A hund'red rubles! Great heavens! Tell him your 
parents ordered you always to play for nuts.” 

Enough of this nonsense,” I interrupted him severely. 
‘‘ Bring me the money immediately or I will dismiss you 
from my service.” 

Savielitch threw me a look of profound sorrow and 
went to fetch the notes. 

I felt sorry for the poor old man, but I wanted to sub- 
due him and become a free agent; to prove to him I was 
no longer a child. 

The money was forwarded to Zourine. Savielitch 
hastened our departure from the ‘^rascally tavern,” and 
soon announced that the horses were ready. 

With an uneasy conscience aj^d a mute repentance 
I left Simbirsk, without bidding good-by to my teacher, 
and hoping never to meet him again. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WANDERER. 

My traveling thoughts were not very pleasant. My 
loss, according to the value of money in those days, was 
not a trifling one. I could not but be conscious that my 
conduct at the Simbirsk tavern had been very foolish, 
and I felt guilty as regards Savielitch. All this tormented 
me. The old man sat near the coachman, sullen and 
silent, with averted face, occasionally giving a grunt. I 
wished to make my peace with him, but knew not how to 
begin. At last I said: 

‘MVell, Savielitch, let us make friends and be at peace 
again. I confess my beetka was going down a narrow 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


11 


road, or wrongs. I was reckless and wild yesterday and 
have offended you. I promise to be wiser in future and 
obey you. .Now don’t be angry, there’s a good fellow.” 

“ Oh! my dear Master Peter,” answered he, with a deep 
sigh, iPs with myself I am angry; I am to blame from 
the first. How could I leave you in the tavern all by 
yourself! It is all my fault, all mine, dear Master Peter. 
How shall I ever meet my master? What will he say 
when he hears that his child drinks and gambles.” 

To comfort Savielitch I gave him my word of honor 
that I would never spend a farthing again without his 
consent. He gradually grew calmer, but continually 
shook his head, and muttered to himself: ‘‘ A hund‘::d 
rubles! A hundred rubles! This is no trifling matter!” 

Dreary wastes, hillocks, and ravines spread on all sides. 
Snow covered everything. The sun was setting. The 
keebeetka continued to move over a track marked out by 
peasants’ sledges. Suddenly the postboy began to look 
about him, and at length taking off his cap, he turned to 
me, saying: 

“ Master, will it please your honor to turn back?” 

What for?” 

The weather is not to be trusted; the wind is rising 
— see how it is sweeping up the snow.” 

What does that matter?” 

Look over there.” 

I see nothing but the white plain and a clear sky.” 

** And that — that cloud — over there.” 

On the horizon I could now discern a small white cloud, 
which I at first mistook for a distant hillock. The post- 
boy explained to me that this cloud predicted a snow- 
storm. 

I had heard of the terrible snow squalls in these parts, 
and that sometimes whole lines of sledges were buried be- 
neath the snow. Savielitch was of the postboy’s opinion, 
and advised turning back. But I did not consider the 
wind very strong, and feeling anxious to reach the next 
station in good time I gave the order to drive on at a quick 
pace. 

The postboy whipped his horses, but still glanced un- 
easily toward the east. The horses went well at first, but 
the wind blew stronger and stronger. The little cloud 
became a big white mass, rose liigiier, widened, and soon 


12 


THE CAPTAIK^S DAUGHTER. 


spread all over the horizon. Fine snow began to fall and 
suddenly came down in large flakes. The wind howled, 
the snow-drift raged. In a few moments the dark sky 
co-mingled with the sea of snow. Everything had disap” 
peared from view. 

‘‘ Well, master,” screamed the postboy; mercy on us! 
Here’s the snowstorm!” 

I looked out of the keebeetka. All was gloom atid 
whirlwind. The wind yelled with such fierceness of ex- 
pression as if it were inspired. We were buried in snow. 
The horses moved but slowly and at last stopped alto- 
^Qther. 

* ' What are you stopping for?” I asked impatiently of 
tlie postboy. 

‘‘What’s the use of going on?” he replied, getting off 
his seat, “ The Lord only knows where we’ve got to as 
it is. There’s no road to be seen and the mist is impene- 
trable.” 

I began to scold him. Savielitch took his part. “ Why 
not have listened to reason?” said he, “ If you had gone 
back to the inn you would now be drinking your tea and 
could have rested till morning; the storm would then have 
passed over and we could have gone on. Besides, what’s 
the hurry? We are not going to a wedding!” 

Savielitch was right, but there was no help for it. T^he 
snow was falling thick and fast. Quite a mountain of 
snow surrounded the keebeetka. The shivering horses 
stood with heads bent low. The postboy walked round 
the sledge and arranged the trappings for want of 
better occupation, Savielitch grumbled. I gazed in 
every direction, hoping to see some trace of road or dwell- 
ing, but could discern nothing but the misty turmoil of 
the snowdrift. All at once I perceived something black. 

“ Hi! postboy!” I shouted*, “look over there. What 
can that be?” 

The postboy gazed eagerly in the direction indicated. 

“Heaven knows, master, what it is,” said he, taking 
his seat. “It is not a sledge, it’s not a tree, and it ap- 
pears to move. It must either be a wolf or a man.” 

I ordered him to drive toward it. It immediately ad- 
vanced to meet us. Two minutes later we came up to a 
man. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 13 

Ho! my good man!” shouted the postboy, ^^can you 
tell us where to find the road?” 

‘‘The road is here; I am standing on firm ground; but 
what good comes of it?” answered the wanderer. 

“ Listen, my good fellow,” I said, “do you know this 
country? Will you take upon yourself to guide us to 
some place of shelter for the night?” 

“ The country is well known to me,” replied the wan- 
derer. “I have walked and driven over it scores of times, 
thank God. But then you see what weather it is. Noth- 
ing easier than to lose one’s way. Better stay where we 
are until the whirlwind ceases. It may soon clear up, and 
we can then find our way by the stars.” 

His coolness raised my courage. I decided to trust to 
Providence and spend my night in the plain, when sud- 
denly the wanderer jumped up near the postboy, saying: 

“Yes, thank God, there is a dwelling near. Turn to 
the right, and drive on.” 

“And wliy should I turn to the right?” asked the post- 
boy, with evident displeasure. “It’s all very well for 
you, the horses are not yours; you risk nothing if we come 
to grief.” 

I thought the postboy was right. 

“Yes,” said I, “what makes you think there’s a dwell- 
ing near here?” 

“ Because the wind blows thence, and I can smell 
smoke, which means there’s a village not far distant.” 

His shrewdness amazed me; I told the postboy to drive 
on. The horses stepped heavily through tlie deep snow. 
The keebeetka moved slowly, now rising over a snowhill, 
now falling into a deep hole, and swaying from one side 
to the other. Tt was very like sailing over a rough sea. 
Savielitch groaned and every now and then was jerked up 
against me. I let down the apron of the sledge and 
wrapped myself up in my fur cloak. I soon fell into a 
doze, lulled to sleep by the tossing about of the kee- 
beetka. 

I had a dream th^t I can never forget, and in which to^ 
this day I see something prophetic when I compare it with 
the strange events of my Hfe. 

The reader will excuse me, for most likely he knows by 
experience how natural it is for man to give way to super- 
stition, notwithstanding all possible contempt for preju- 


14 THE CAPTAI^q-*S DAUGHTER. 

dice. I was just then in tliat peculiar state of mind and 
feeling when reality, giving way to fancy, mixes with it in 
the visions of first sleep. 1 imagined that the storm was 
still raging, and that we were wanderers on the snowy 
plain. I suddenly perceived some gates in front of us, 
and we drove into the courtyard of our country house. 
My first thought was that of fear, lest my father should be 
angry at my return and consider it an act of willful diso- 
bedience. I alighted from the sledge experiencing much 
uneasiness, when I saw my mother on the doorsteps, look- 
ing very sad indeed. “HushP she exclaimed, ‘^your 
father is dying, and wishes to bid you farewell.” Awe- 
struck I followed her into the dimly-lighted bedroom. 
The bed was surrounded by the servants. I approached 
the bedside. My mother lifted the curtain and said: 

Peter has arrived; he heard of your illness and came to 
receive your blessing.” I knelt down and raised my eyes 
to the sick man’s face. Instead of my father I beheld a 
peasant with a black beard, who looked at me quite gayly. 

What means this?” I asked. This is not my father. 
Why should I receive a peasant’s blessing?” 

‘^‘Nevermind, Pet,” replied my mother; ^Mt is your 
mi'ptial father.^ Kiss his hand and ask his blessing.” I 
refused. The peasant jumped 'off the bed, seized an ax 
from behind his back and brandished it on all sides. I 
tried to rush away, but could not; the room was soon 
filled with corpses. I stumbled over them and slipped in 
pools of blood. The peasant called out to me in a caress- 
ing voice: ‘‘Don’t be afraid of me, come and receive my 
blessing.” Awe and amazement took possession of me. 
At this moment I awoke. The horses were at a standstill. 
Savielitch took my hand, saying: 

“ We have arrived. Master Peter.” 

I alighted from the keebeetka. The storm was still 
raging, though with less violence. It was quite dark. A 
man met us at the gate, holding a lantern under his cloak, 
and conducted us to a small but cleaiv and dimly- lighted 
45 room. Our host, a Cossack from Yiwtsk, was seemingly 
a man about sixty, but still hale and hearty. Savielitch 
brought in my box containing the tea service, and asked 

* The man who gives away the bride or bridegroom is in Russia 
“nuptial father." 


THE CAPTAIi?’s DAUGHTER. 


15 


for a light to prepare the tea, of which I had never felt in 
greater need. Our host went out to busy himself with 
necessary preparations. 

‘‘Where is the stranger?’’ I asked of Savielitch, 

“ Here I am, your honor,” answered a voice from 
above. 

I looked up at the “under ceiling,”* and beheld a 
black beard and two glittering eyes. 

“Well, my good man, are you not almost frozen?” 

“ How could 1 be otherwise, sir? I had a sheepskin 
coat yesterday, but to tell the truth, I pawned it to the 
owner of the tavern, as the frost did not promise to be 
very severe.” 

Our host now made his appearance, bearing an urn 
with boiling water; I offered a cup of tea to the stranger 
and he came down from his shelf. He was very striking 
in appearance, about forty years old, of middle height 
and broad shouldered. His black beard had a few gray 
hairs in it. His large, sharp eyes wandered restlessly 
here and there. His face wore a pleasant, jovial, but 
roguish expression. 

“ Would your honor mind giving me a glass of wine in- 
stead? Tea isn’t the sort of drink we Cossacks care 
about.” 

I willingly acceded to his request. Our host took a 
bottle and glass from the cupboard, went up to the 
stranger, and looking into his face, said: 

“ So you are again in these parts. Where did you 
come from?” 

The wanderer winked knowingly and replied: 

“I flew into the kitchen-garden, I pecked at the hemp- 
seed; an old woman threw a stone at me, but missed her 
mark. And what are yours about, eh?” 

.'’’answered our host, going on with this allegor- 
ical conversation: 

“ The priest is away and the devils are in the burial- 
ground.” 

“ Silence!” said the wanderer. “ When rain comes 
then mushrooms grow, and when the mushrooms grow we 

* The Russian peasants’ homes have a second ceiling or wide shelf 
near the top one, to sit or lie on. They usually sleep on these under 
ceilings. 


16 


THE CAPTA^IK’S daughter. 


will find a basket for them. At present put your ax be- 
hind your back, for the forester walks abroad. Here’s to 
your health, your honor.” 

With these words he took the glass, crossed himself, 
and emptied it at a gulp, then bowing to me returned to 
his shelf under the ceiling. 

I could make nothing out of their pickpocket conversa- 
tion, and only later I guessed it related to the affairs of 
the Yaitsky Armv, which had lately been worsted after 
theTebellion of 1772. 

Savielitch had listened with an air of great displeasure; 
he eyed first the wanderer and then our host with evident 
susincion. The inn stood quite by itself amid the steppes, 
fur away from any habitation and looked very much like 
a den of thieves. But we were compelled to remain the 
night, going further was not to be thought of. Savie- 
1 itch’s uneasiness greatly amused me. Meanwhile I lay 
down on a bench and prepared to go to sleep. Savielitch 
rested against the stove. Our host stretched himself on 
the floor, and shortly after the hut was one chorus of 
snores and I fell into a dead sleep. 

On waking next morning the storm had ceased. The 
sun shone brightly. The snow spread like a dazzling 
shroud over the wide steppes. The horses were ready. I 
paid the bill, which was so moderate that even Savielitch 
did not, as was his habit, dispute and bargain about it, 
and his suspicions of the night before seemed erased from 
his memory. I called the wanderer, thanked him for the 
assistance he had given us, and told Savielitch to give 
him half a ruble for brandy. Savielitch frowned. 

Half a ruble!” said he. What for? Because we 
had the kindness to drive him up to the inn, I suppose. 
Do as you please, sir, but we have no half roubles to 
spare. If we have to pay for everybody’s brandy we shall 
soon be in a state of starvation, ourselves.” 

I could not argue the point with Savielitch. My money, 
as I had promised him, was entirely under his control, 
and yet I felt annoyed not to be able to prove my gratitude 
to one who had rescued me, if not from danger, at least 
from a most unpleasant situation. 

Very well,” I said coolly. If you refuse to give him 
the half ruble, give him something from my trunk — he 
is too lightly clad. He shall have my hareskin coat.” 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


17 


Mercy on us, Master Peter!” exclaimed Savielitch. 
^‘What does he want with a hareskin coat? "The dog 
will drink it away at the first tayern he comes to.” 

That’s no concern of yours, old man, whether I do 
or not,” said the wanderer. ‘‘ His honor gives me a fur 
off his own back, it is his pleasure, and your duty as a 
servant is not to dispute but to obey.” 

You have no fear of God in you, you thief!” answered 
Savielitch angrily. You see the child has no wisdom 
and you are glad to take advantage of his simplicity and 
rob him. What do you want with a gentleman’s hareskin 
coat? You couldn’t even get it on your clumsy shoul- 
ders.” 

‘^Please not to reason,” said I to my servant, ^^but 
bring the hareskin coat at once.” 

“ Lord a mercy!” groaned Savielitch. ^‘Almost a new 
coat! If it was to anybody worthy of it! But to a beggar 
and a drunkard! ” 

Nevertheless the hareskin coat made its appearance. 
The peasant at once put it on. The coat, out of which I 
had had the time to grow, was indeed rather too tight 
for him. He somehow or other contrived to get into it, 
though the seams gave way. It made Savielitch groan on 
the spot when he heard the stitches bursting asunder. 
The wanderer was delighted with my present. He es- 
corted me to the keebeetka and with a low bow said: 

Many thanks your honor! May God reward you for 
your goodness; I shall never forget it.” 

We went our way, and I soon forgot all about the 
snowstorm, the wanderer, and my hareskin coat. 

On arriving in Orenburg I went straight to the gener- 
al’s. He was a tall man, bent with age. His hair was 
snow white. His shabby, faded uniform reminded me of 
the warriors in Empress Anne’s reign. He spoke with a 
strong German accent. I presented him my father’s 
letter. Glancing at the signature he looked up quickly, 
‘'My kod!” said he; "vass it long ago that Andrew 
Krinioff vas your atche, and now he hass so vine a ^llow 
for his son! Oh! Time! Time!” He began to re^ the 
letter: " My dear Sir, I hope that your Excellency ’’— 
(“ Why sucli ceremony? Eoui isn’t he ashamed of him- 
self! Etiquette is all ferry well, but one does not write 
go to m old friend!”)— “ Your Excellency has not forgot- 


18 THE captain’s daughter. 

ten ” — Hum!”) — and when the late Field Marshal ” 
— ‘Mn the campaign and little Caroline.” — (‘‘Ho! ho! 
Bruder! so he still remembers our old. freaks!”) — “And 

now to the point. To you I send my imp ” 

(“ Hum!”) — “ Lead him with a rot of iron.” 

“ What is a rot of iron, young man?” he asked turning 
to me. 

“It means,” I replied, putting on a most innocent air, 
“it means, to be indulgent, not too severe; give as much 
liberty as possible — that’s what is meant by leading with 
a rod of iron.” 

“Hum! I see, I see!” — “Don’t give him too mucli 
liberty.” (“Oh! so it seems leating with a rot of iron 
means something different after all!”) — “ Joined to this is 
his passport.” (“ Where is it? Ah! here!”) — “Write to 
the Semenovsky Kegiment.” — (“ Ferry well, ferry well. 
Everything will pee tone.”) “Throwing off ceremony 1 
embrace 3 ^ou like an old friend and comrade.” — (“Ah! 
he has come to it at last, &c., &c.) — Well, my tear,” said 
he, finishing the letter and putting away my passport, 
“ everything shall pe tone. You shall pe exchanged into 
the * * * Eegiment, and to lose no time you shall start 
to-morrow for the Peelogorski Fortress, where you will pe 
under Captain’s Mironoff’s command, an honest and koot 
man. There you will have active service; there you will 
learn discipline. There is nothing for you to do in Oren- 
burg. Amusement is not koot for young men. To-tay I 
hope you will come and tine with me,” 

“Worse and worse!” thought I to myself. “What 
was the good of my having a commission in the Guards 
almost before I w:'s born? What has it brought me to 
now? To a dull fortress on the borders of the Kirghese 

Steppes!” I dined with General R and his aid-de- 

camp. A strict German economy prevailed at his table, 
and I firmly believe that the fear of sometimes seeing an 
extra guest at his bachelor board was partly the reason of 
my hurried dismissal to the garrison. Next day I took 
my l(^ve of the general and started for my new destina- 
tion. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


19 


CHAPTER III. 

THE FORTRESS. 

The fortress of Bielogorski was forty miles distant from 
Orenburg. The road skirted the steep shores of the Yaika. 
The river was not yet frozen over, and its leaden-colored 
waves looked dull and black between its dreary snow- 
covered banks. Further on, the Kirghese Steppes spread 
far and wide. I fell into deep and sad thought. A gar- 
rison life presented but few attraction.s to me. I tried to 
picture to myself what my future chief. Captain Mironoff, 
would belike, and fancied him a severe, cross old man, 
knowing nothing beyond his military duties and ready to 
put me under arrest and on bread and water for the veri- 
est trifle. Meanwhile day waned into twilight. We were 
driving at a quick pace. 

Are we still far from the fortress?’’ I inquired of the 
postboy. 

We are close to it. There it is; you can see it,’' an- 
swered he. 

I looked on all sides, expecting to see menacing bas- 
tions, towers, and ramparts, but could perceive nothing 
but a small village surrounded by a wooden fence. On 
one side of it stood two or three hayricks, partially covered 
with snow, and on the other side was a rickety-looking 
windmill. 

But where is the fortress?” I asked with astonish- 
ment. 

Why, there it is,” replied the postboy, pointing to 
the village, and upon this we drove into it. Near the 
gates I noticed an old cast-iron cannon. The streets were 
narrow and tortuous; the huts were low and mostly 
thatched with straw. I gave the order to drive to the 
commandant’s house, and in a few minutes the keebeetka 
drew up before a wooden house standing on high ground 
close to a wooden church. Nobody came out to meet me. 

I entered the vestibule and opened the door into an ante- 
room. An old soldier was sitting on a table busily em- 
ployed in sewing a dark blue patch to the sleeve of a green 
uniform. I bade him go and announce me. 


20 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER/ 


^‘Oh, you can go in, my dear sir,” said he; ^^the 
masters are at home.” 

I entered a clean room, arranged in the old-fashioned 
style. A cupboard with plate stood in the corner, an 
officer’s diploma framed hung upon the wall, also several 
cheap pictures representing the capture of Keestreen, the 
choice of a bride, &c. An old lady, attired in a warm 
jacket, with a handkerchief tied under her chin, sat near 
the window. She was busily engaged in winding thread, 
whicli a one-eyed old man in officer’s uniform held out on 
liis outstretched hands. 

“ What is your pleasure, sir,” she asked, going on with 
her work. 

I replied that I had come to serve in the fortress, and in 
duty bound wished to pay my respects to the command- 
ant, Captain Mironoff — saying which I turned to tlie one- 
eyed old man, mistaking him for the commandant, but 
the hostess interrupted my pre-arranged speech. 

The captain is not at Lome,” she said; he has gone 
to pay a visit to Father Gheracirn, but I am his wife, so 
it’s all the same, my dear sir, and I hope you will like ns. 
Be seated, sir.” She called a man-servant and told liini 
to fetch an under-officer. The old man’s one eye glanced 
inquisitively at me. 

‘‘Allow me to ask,” said he, “ in what regiment yon have 
served?” I satisfied his curiosity. “ And may I inquire,” 
continued he, “ why you exchanged from the Guards to 
the garrison?” I replied that such was the will of my 
chief. 

“ Could it have been on account of misbehavior to an 
officer in the Guards?” went on my unwearied questioner. 

“ Hold your tongue, do!” said the captain’s wife. 
“ Don’t you see the young man is fatigued from his 
journey, you are too much for him. Hold your hands 
straight! And you, my dear sir,” continued she, ad- 
dressing me, “ do not grieve that you have been sent to 
this out of the way place to be buried alive; you are not 
the first, nor will you be the last. You will get used to it 
and in time like it. It is almost five years now since 
Captain Shvabrin was sent here for murder, for I can call 
it nothing but murder. Heaven only knows what pos- 
sessed him. I must tell you that he went a short way out 
of town with a lieutenant, and they took swords with 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


21 


them and began sticking them into each otlier! Shvahrin 
pierced the lieutenant through the body; all this occurred 
in the presence of two witnesses into the bargain! Well, 
it can’t be helped; these misfortunes will happen some- 
times.” 

Just then in came the under-officer, a young and finely- 
built Cossack. 

Maximitch,” said the captain’s wife, “ secure lodg- 
ings for this gentleman, and take care they are clean. 
By the bye, what is yuur name and surname, my good 
sir?” she asked, turning to me. 

Peter Grinioff.” 

Take Mr. Peter Grinioff to Simeon Koozoff’s. The 
rascal let his horse run into my kitchen-garden. Well, 
Maximitch, is eyerything going on right?” 

‘‘ Yes, thank God, everything is quiet,” replied the 
Cossack, except that Corporal Prokoroff has been fight- 
ing with Oostenia in the bath for a pail of hot water.” 

^‘^Mr. John Ignatich,” exclaimed the captain’s wife to 
the one-eyed old man, ‘^go and find out which of the two, 
Oostenia or Prokoroff, is to blame. Maximitch will take 
you to your lodgings, Mr. Grinioff.” 

I bowed myself out. The under- officer led the way to 
a hut situated on the banks of the river; near the coniines 
of the fortress. One half of the hut was occupied by 
Simeon Koozoff’s family, the other half was given up to 
me. It consisted of one clean-looking room, divided into 
two by a partition wall. Savielitch began putting it to 
rights. I looked out of the narrow window. A. dull 
waste spread before me. A few huts were scattered here 
and there. Chickens were wandering through the streets; 
an old woman holding a trough was standing on the door- 
steps calling to some pigs, who answered her with friendly 
grunts. And this was the place in which I was destined 
to spend my youth! A feeling of profound grief took 
possession of me. I turned from the window and went to 
bed without my supper, in spite of Savieliteh’s remon- 
strances. He kept repeating, Lord a mercy, he won’t 
eat anything! What will my mistress say if the child 
falls ill?” 

Next morning I was barely dressed when the door 
opened and a young officer entered my room. He was of 
middle height, with a very plain and bronzed but ex- 


22 


THE CAPTATK S DAUGHTER. 


pressive face. Excuse me/’ said he, speaking French, 
‘‘ that I come without any ceremony to make your ac- 
quaintance. I heard of your arrival yesterday, and my 
wish to see a civilized being was so strong* that 1 could not 
resist paying you a visit* You will understand this feel- 
ing when you have been buried alive here as I have.’^ 

I guessed that he was the officer who had fought tlie 
duel. We soon made friends. Shvabrin was decidedly 
clever. His conversation was witty and amusing. He 
described to me, with much humor, all particulars re- 
specting the commandant’s family, the society of the 
fortress, and details of the country into which fate liad 
brought me. 

I was laughing heartily when in came the old soldier I 
had seen in the commandant’s ante-room mending his 
uniform. He brought me an invitation^to dinner from 
the captain’s wife. Shvabrin said he would accompany 
me. 

On approaching the commandant’s house we noticed in 
the square some twenty old soldiers with long pigtails and 
three-cornered hats, standing all in a row, as if about to 
be reviewed. Facing them stood the commandant, a tall, 
vigorous old man, attired in a nankeen dressing-gown, 
with a night-cap on his head. When he saw us he came 
up and spoke a few kind words to me and then went back 
to his soldiers. We stopped to witness the drill, but he 
begged us to go on to his house, and promised to follow 
us there very shortly. You will have nothing of inter- 
est to see here,” he added. 

The captain’s wife received us very kindly and without 
any ceremony whatever; she was. as much at her ease with 
me as if she had known me all her life. The old soldier 
and the servant girl Palashka-were laying the cloth. 

AVhy, what a long time my captain is to-day over his 
drill!” said Mrs, Mironolf. ‘‘ Pahishka, go and call mas- 
ter in to dinner. But where is Mary?” 

At these words a girl of eighteen, with a bright rosy 
face and silken hair combed straight behind her ears, 
which were crimson, entered the room. She did not 
please me much at first sight. I confess I had been 
prejudiced against her by Shvabrin, who had described 
her to me as a perfect idiot. Miss Mary Mironoff sat 
down in a corner of the room and went on with her sew- 


THE captain’s daughter. 


23 


ing. Meanwhile the cabbage soup was served. Palaslika 
was again sent to fetch her master. 

Tell your master the soup is getting cold. The visit- 
ors are waiting. There’s no fear of the soldiers running 
away, he will have plenty of time to scream himself 
hoarse.” 

The captain soon made his appearance, accompanied 
by the one-eyed old man. “ Well, my dear,” said his 
wife, ‘‘the soup has been waiting some time, but I 
couldn’t get you to come in.” 

“You see, my dear,” answered the captain, “I was 
busy drilling my men.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” replied she, “you only say you drill 
the soldiers; they don’t get on a bit, and yon don’t under- 
stand anything at all about it. You had much better 
stay at home and say your prayers. My dear friends, pray 
be seated.” 

Mrs. Mironoff talked without ceasing and overwhelmed 
me with questions: Who were my parents? Were they 
alive, and what did their fortune amount to? When I 
told her that my father had three hundred serfs, she ex- 
claimed: “’Tis no trifle! and so there really are sucli rich 
people in the world? As for us we have only one serf, the 
girl Palashka. Yet, thank God, we manage somehow to 
exist. Our only anxiety is for Mary. She is at a mar- 
riageable age, and what is her dowry? Nothing! Lucky 
for her if she flnds some good man to take her penniless, 
if not she will have to remain single all her days.” 

I glanced at Miss Mary, her face was scarlet, and the 
tears dropped into her plate. I felt sorry for her, and 
hastened to change the topic of conversation. 

“ I have heard,” said I, rather mal-apropoSy “ that the 
Bashkirs are preparing to attack your fortress.” 

“ Where did your hear that?” asked the captain. 

“In Orenburg,” I replied. 

“ Kubbish!” said the commandant. “ It’s a long time 
since we heard anything of the kind. The Bashkirs are 
afraid of us now, and the Kirghese have had their lesson 
too. No fear of their showing their noses here, but if 
they do, I will give it them so hot they will remember it 
for years to come.” 

“Don’t you feel frightened?” I asked of the captain’s 
wife, “ to live in a lortress exposed to such dangers?” 


24 


THE CAPTAIK’S DAUGHTER. 


all a matter of habit, my good sir,” she replied. 
‘^Twenty years ago, when we were first stationed here, I 
was in mortal dread of these pagans! As soon as I heard 
their screeches, would you believe it, I felt my flesh creep! 
But now I am so used to it I shouldn’t move, even though 
I knew the rascals were prowling round the fortress.” 

“ I'he captain’s wife is a most courageous lady,” re- 
marked Shvabrin seriously, the captain can bear witness 
to that.” 

‘‘Yes, mind ye,” said the captain, “the woman is no 
coward.” 

“ And Miss Mary,” I inquired, “ is she as brave as 3^011?” 

“ Is Mary brave?” said her mother. “ No, Mary is very 
timid. Even now she can’t hear the report of a gun with- 
out trembling all over; and when two years ago the cap- 
tain took it into his head to fire off our cannon in honor 
of my birthday, she nearly took herself off to the next 
world, poor -dear! Since that day, the horrid gun has 
never been fired again.” 

We rose from table. The captain and his wife retired 
to take a nap. I went to Shvabrin’s and spent the even- 
ing with him. 


CHAPTER lY. 

THE DUEL. 

Several weeks passed, and my life in the fortress of 
Bielogorski seemed to me not only endurable, but even 
pleasant. I was treated like a relative in the command- 
ant’s family. The husband and wife were most estimable 
people. The captain had risen from the ranks, and was 
a’ man without any education, but thoroughly good and 
honest. His wife had the upper hand of him, which 
suited his careless temperament very well. She looked 
after the affairs of the fortress exactly as she did after her 
household, and managed them as she did her own small 
house. Miss Mary soon left off being shy with me. We 
grew more intimate. I found her to be a sensible and 
kind-hearted girl. Without noticing the fact, by degrees 
I grew attached to this amiable family, and even to Mr. 
John, the one-eyed garrison lieutenant, of whom Shvabrin 
had invented that he was the happy lover of the captain’s 


THE CAPTATJq’s DAUGHTER. 


25 


wife — an assertion that had not a shade of truth in it, 
but Shvabrin cared not an atom whether there was or not. 

I was promoted in grade. The military service was no 
burden to me. There were no reviews, no drills, or sen- 
try duties in this blessed fortress. The commandant 
occasionally drilled the men for his own pleasure, but he 
had never even succeeded in teaching them which was 
tlieir right hand and which their left. Shvabrin had a 
few French books. I began to read, and a taste for liter- 
ature awoke in me. I devoted my mornings to reading, 
to translating, and sometimes to wj'iting poetry. I dined 
almost daily at the commandant’s, where I generally re- 
mained for the rest of the day. Of an evening Father 
Gheracim and his wife would occasionally drop in — (she 
was the greatest gossip of the whole neighborhood). Of 
course I saw Shvabrin daily, but his society was growing 
more and more obnoxious to me: his constant sarcasms 
and jests about the commandant’s family displeased me 
very much, especially his cutting remarks about Mary. 
There was no other society in the fortress, but I wished 
for no other. 

Notwithstanding the prediction, the Bashkirs did not 
rebel. Peace reigned in our fortress, but was suddenly 
disturbed by a private quarrel. 

I have already said that I took to literary pursuits. My 
essays were pretty good for the time, and a few years later 
were greatly praised. I succeeded in writing a song- that 
pleased me very well. It is a well-known fact that au- 
thors, on the plea of asking advice, seek an indulgent 
auditor. So having copied out my song, I took it to.Shva- 
brin, the sole person in the fortress who could possibly be 
a j ndge of poetry. I took my manuscript from my pocket, 
and read him the following verses: 


I. 

Thoughts of love I flee and parry, 
Trying to forget the fair; 

And, alas! avoiding Mary, 

Hope to win my freedom’s share, 

IL 

But the eyes that have enchained me 
Are for ever in my thoughts; 

They disturb my mind, and maybe. 
To a wreck my peace have brought. 


26 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


III. 

Mary, take on me compassion, 

When my grief you come to view, 

When you see my sad depression, 

When you learn how 1 love you. 

Whafc do you think of it?” I asked Shvabrin, expect- 
ing praise which I considered my due. To my disgust, 
Shvabrin, who was usually very lenient, declared that 
my song was decidedly a bad one, ^MVhy so?” asked I, 
trying to hide my annoyance. 

He took the verses from me and mercilessly commenced 
analyzing each verse and word, laughing at me in the 
most sarcastic manner, i could not stand it any longer, 
and snatching the book from him I said I would never 
let him see any of my verses again. Shvabrin laughed 
still more at this threat of mine. 

We shall see how you keep your word,” said he; 
“ poets have as much need of listeners as the commandant 
has of a drop of old whisky before his dinner! And who, 
pray, is this Mary, to whom you make such protestations 
of love and sadness? Can it possibly be Mary Mironoff?” 

That is no business of yours,” I replied frowning, 

whoever this Mary is. I do not require either your 
opinion or your remarks.” 

Oh! a conceited poet and a discreet lover!” went on 
Shvabrin, trying to irritate me still more. But do listen 
to friendly advice; let me tell you that if you wish to 
succeed with her you must use other means than verses.” 

‘‘ What do you mean, sir? I beg you to explain.” 

With pleasure. I mean that if you want Mary Miron- 
off to give you a rendezvous at twilight, you had better 
make her a present of jewelry instead of those sugary 
verses.” 

My blood boiled. 

Allow me to ask why you have such an opinion of 
her?” said I, with great difidculty suppressing my indigna- 
tion. 

“Because,” he replied, with a fiendish expression, “I 
know from experience her character and ways.” 

“You lie, you scoundrel!” I cried, in a fury; “you lie 
with shameless impudence.” 

Shvabrin’s face darkened. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 27 

‘‘This insult shall not go unpunished,” said he, seizing 
my arm ; “ I will have saLisfaction.” 

“ Whenever you please,” I answered, joyfully. 

I was ready to fear him in pieces that very moment. 

I went immediately to Mr. John, the one-eyed old man 
and found him with a needle in his hand. The captain’s 
wife had set him to work to string mushrooms that were 
to be dried for the winter. 

“ Oh, Mr. Grinioff,” said he on seeing me; welcome 
to you. What has brought you? Have you come on busi- 
ness?” 

I explained to him in as few words as possible that I 
had quarreled with Shvabrin, and asked him to be my 
second. Mr. John listened attentively and opened his one 
eye very wide. 

“ You say,” said he, “ that you are going to fight with 
Mr. Shvabrin, and desire me to witness it. Is it so?” 

“ Exactly.” 

“For goodness sake, Mr. Grinioff, don’t fight. What 
does it matter if he has insulted you? Call him names in 
your turn. He gives you a slap on the cheek and you 
box his ears once, twice, thrice, and there’^ an end of it. 
We will see you reconciled again. But may I ask, is it a 
good action to kill one’s neighbor? Not that it would so 
much matter if you did kill Mr. Shvabrin. I’m not over 
fond of him myself, but if he happened to stick you 
through the body, what would be done then? Who would 
be the fool, allow me to ask, in that case?” 

The old man’s reasoning did not shake my resolution. 
I kept to my determination. 

“ Well, do as you please! do as you please; but why 
should I be a witness to your folly? Witness two men 
fighting, indeed, what’s the good of that? I have fought 
against Swedes and Turks. I’ve seen plenty of that sort 
of thing!” 

I tried to explain to him the duty of a second in a duel, 
but Mr. John could, not understand it at all. 

“As you please,” said he. “If I must meddle in this 
affair it will be to go straight to the commandant and in- 
form him that a crime is being premeditated in the fort- 
ress and ask him to take steps to prevent it.” 

I grew alarmed and begged him to say nothing about 
it. With great difficulty I at last succeeded in making 


28 


THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 


him promise to keep my secret, and I made up my mind 
to manage without him. I, as usual, spent my evening 
at the commandant’s. I tried to appear gay and uncon- 
cerned in order to avoid suspicions and"* questions, but I 
must own that I had none of the self-possession which al- 
most every one who has been in a like position generally 
boasts of. 

That evening I was inclined to be tender and affection- 
ate. Mary was dearer to me than ever. The thought 
that it w'as perhaps for tlie last time I should behold her 
made her very interesting in my eyes. Shvabrin, too, 
made his appearance there. I drew him aside and told 
him the result of my conversation with Mr. John. AVhat 
do we want with seconds?” he said dryly; we can do 
without them.” We arranged to fight behind the hay- 
ricks, near the fortress, at six in the morning. We were 
to all appearance speaking so amicably that Mr. John let 
the cat out of the bag for very joy. That’s right,” said 
he with an air of relief, ^^a bad treaty of peace is better 
than war, and even though not quite honorable it is at 
least as safe,” 

What is that you are talking about?” asked the cap- 
tain’s wife, who was sitting in a corner telling her fortune 
with cards. “ I did not hear aright.” 

Mr. John, remarking my look of discomfort, and rec- 
ollecting his promise, grew confused and did not know 
what to say. Shvabrin hastened to our rescue. Mr. 
John,” said he, approves of our reconciliation.” 

And whom have you quarreled with?” 

I had rather a serious dispute with Mr. Peter Grinioff 
for the veriest trifle; a mere song, madam, I assure you.” 

How did it happen?” 

‘‘Very simply; Mr. Grinioff composed some verses for 
a song which this morning he sang to me; then I com- 
menced singing my favorite one: 

Captain’s daughter, do not go, 

Taking walks at nights, you know. 

Discord ensued. At first Mr. Grinioff lost his temper, 
but at last came to the conclusion that everybody had a 
right to sing what song he liked. And thus the affair 
ended.” 

Shvabrin’s composure very nearly drove me wild, but 


THE captain’s daughter. 20 

nobody but myself understood his rude -allusions or paid 
any attention to them. The conversation turned from 
songs to poetry, and the commandant remarked that poets 
were nearly all licentious people, and drunkards into the 
bargain, advising me in a friendly way to give up writing 
verses, it being a bad habit, prejudicial to military service, 
and could lead to no good. Shvabrin’s presence upset 
me. I soon took leave of the commandant and his family, 
went home, took down my sword, examined its point, and 
went to bed, telling Savielitch to wake me at six next 
morning. 

At the appointed hour I stood behind the hayricks, 
waiting for Shvabrin. He soon made his appearance. 
“We may be seen,’’ said he; “ we must not loiter.” We 
took off our coats, and unsheathed our swords, when sud- 
denly Mr. John rushed up with five soldiers. He ordered 
us to follow him to the commandant’s presence. Re- 
luctantly we obeyed. The soldiers kept near us, and we 
walked behind Mr. John, who led us in triumph, stepping 
out with wonderful importance. 

We reached the commandant’s house, when Mr. John 
exultingly exclaimed: ^‘1 have brought them!” The cap- 
tain’s wife received us. 

“Good heavens, gentlemen! Pray what is the meaning 
of all this? What next! How dare you think of com- 
mitting murder in our fortress? Put them under arrest 
immediately! Give up your swords; give them up, I say! 
Palashka, carry the swords to the lumber-room. Mr. 
Griniofi, I did not expect this of you! Are you not 
ashamed of yourself? ’Tis all very well for IVfr. Shvabrin, 
wdio was turned out of the Guards for manslaughter; he 
believes in neither God nor man. But how came you to 
follow in his steps?” 

The captain agreed with his wife, and kept repeating: 

“Mrs. Mironoff is quite right. Duels nj.’e strictly for- 
bidden by military law.” 

Meanwhile Palashka had taken possession of our swords, 
and carried them off to the lumber-room. T laughed out- 
right, but Shvabrin kept his gravity. “Notwithstanding 
my deep esteem for yon, madam,” he said coolly, “ allow 
me to say you give yourself unnecessary trouble by suh^ 
jecting us to your commands. Leave it to the captain; 
it is his business, not yours,” 


30 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


‘‘Well, Fm sure!” exclaimed the captain’s wife 5 “are 
not man and wife one- in spirit and in body? Have him 
arrested this moment! Put them on bread and water 
until they repent!” 

The captain did not know what to say. Mary was very 
pale. After a while the storm blew over. Mr, Mironoft 
calmed down, and compelled us to make friends; Palashka 
brought back our swords, and we left the house seemingly 
reconciled. Mr. John accompanied us. 

“Are you not ashamed of yourself,” I said to him, “ thus 
to betray us to the commandant, after you had given me 
your word of honor not to do so?” 

“ I swear to you I never said one word about it,” an- 
swered he. “The captain’s wife got it all out of me, and 
gave orders to stop the duel, but, thank God, it has ended 
so vvell.” 

With this he left us, and Shvabrin and I were alone to- 
gether. 

“ Qur quarrel cannot end here,” I said to him. 

“ Of course not,” replied Shvabrin; “ you shall pay 
for the insults heaped on me with your blood; but for a 
few days we shall probably be watched, therefore we must 
profess to be on friendly terms. Good-by.’® And we 
parted as if nothing had happened. 

I returned to the commandant’s, and as usual sat 
down near Mary. Her father was not at home, her 
mother was busy with her household duties. We spoke 
in an undertone. Mary reproached me for the uneasiness 
I had caused everybody by my quarrel with Shvabrin. 

“I was terrified,” said she, “when 1 heard you were 
to fight with swords. How strange men are! For one 
little offensive word, which they in all probability would 
forget all about in a week, they were ready not only to 
sacrifice their own life, but the happiness and welfare of 

those who But I feel sure it was not you who began 

the quarrel. I know Mr. Shvabrin alone is to blame!” 

“ What makes you think so, Mary?” 

“Because he is so bitter. I don’t like Mr. Shvabrin, 
ho is most distasteful tome, but I would not for worlds 
that he should dislike me. It would worry me dread- 
fully!” 

‘"'And do you think you are his taste or not?” 

Mary stammered and blushed. 


THE CAPTAII^-’S DAUGHTER. 31 

“ I believe so,” said she; ^^that is, I think he likes 
me.” 

‘‘What makes you think so?” 

“ Because he asked me to marry him.” 

“ He proposed to you. Did he indeed, and when was 
that?” 

“ Last year, about a month before your arrival here.” 

“And you refused him?” 

“ As you see. Mr. Shvabrin is a clever man, well off, 
and of good family; but when I think of marrying him I 
shudder! Oh, not for worlds!” 

Mary’s words opened my eyes and explained many things 
to me. I began to see through the persistent calumnies 
Shvirbrin constantly uttered against her. He had prob- 
ably noticed our mutual affection and was doing his best 
to estrange me from her. The words that had given rise 
to our quarrel now appeared still more abominable to me 
when, instead of rude mischief, I discovered in them pre- 
meditated lies. A desire to punish this impudent slan- 
derer grew still stronger within me, and I impatiently 
awaited my opportunity. 

I had not long to wait. Next day, as I was sitting over 
a poem, biting my pen in the expectation of a coming 
rhyme, Shvabrin knocked at my window. I dropped my 
pen, seized my sword, and joined him. 

“Why should we delay it?” said Shvabrin. “Nobody 
is watching us. Come to the river: nobody will be there 
to hinder us.” 

We went without a word. We walked down a steep 
path to the very edge of the river and we drew our swords. 
Shvabrin was the more skillful of the two, but I was 
stronger and bolder than he, and Monsieur Beaugore, who 
had been a soldier, had given me a few lessons in fencing, 
which I now put into practice. Shvabrin did not expect 
to find in me so dangerous an adversary. For some time 
we did not touch each other; at last, seeing that Shvabrin 
was beginning to give in, I attacked him with more vigor, 
almost forcing him back into the river. Suddenly I heard 
my name called in a loud voice. I turned and saw Savie- 
litch running toward us down the steep path. At this 
very moment something pierced me violently in the breast 
and I fell back senseless. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


32 


CHAPTER V. 

LOVE. 

When I recovered my senses ifc was some time before I 
could collect my thoughts or imagine what was the matter 
with me. I was lying in bed in a strange room, and feel- 
ing exceedingly weak. Savielitch stood before me with a 
candle in his hand, and some one was carefully removing 
the bandage from my shoulder and chest. Little by little 
my thoughts became clear. I remembered the duel, and 
concluded that I had been wounded. At this instant the 
door creaked. 

Weil, how is he now?” asked a voice in a half- whisper 
that made me tremble all over. 

‘‘Still the same,” said Savielitch with a sigh; “still 
insensible, and this is the fifth day already!” 

I tried to turn round, but could not. “ Where am I? 
Who is here?” I asked with difficulty. 

Mary approached my bedside and bent over me. “ How 
do you feel now?” she asked. 

“ Thank God!” I exclaimed in a feeble voice. “ is it 
you, Mary? tell me.” 

I had no strength to finish my sentence, and was silent. 

Savielitch uttered a cry, his face beamed with joy. 
“ He is himself again!” he* kept repeating. “ Thanks be 
to thee, Heavenly Father! Well, Master Peter, you have 
frightened me nicely; this is five days already you have 
been ” 

Mary interrupted him by saying: “Don’t say much to 
him, Savielitch, he is still so weak.” 

She left the room softly and closed the door. My 
tlioughts were as agitated as the waves of the sea. And 
so I was in the commandant’s house and Mary had often 
been to see me! I wished to question Savielitch, but the 
old man shook his head and stopped his ears. I closed 
my eyes, feeling annoyed, and was soon lost in sleep. 

When I awoke I called Savielitch, but instead of him I 
perceived Mary by my side, and her angel voice greeted 
my ear. I can never express the feeling of delight that 


THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 


33 


filled mv heart at that moment. I seized her hand and 
covered it with kisses and tears. She did not withdraw it. 

Suddenly her lips touched my cheek; I felt their warm, 
fresh pressure, and my whole frame seemed on fire. 

^‘'Dearest Mary,” said T, ‘‘be my wife — consent to 
make me happy.” 

She immediately recovered herself. “For God’s sake,” 
she said, withdrawing her hand from mine, “you are not 
yet out of danger, the wound may open again; do take 
care of yourself, if only for my sake.” 

With these words she went away leaving me in an ec- 
stasy of happiness. 

“Joy has cured me,” thought I; “she will be my wife 
— she loves me.” This thought filled my whole being. 

From this moment I grew better and stronger. The 
fortress surgeon was my doctor, there being no other, and, 
thank God, he had no pretensions to being a learned man. 
Youth and a strong constitution hastened my recovery. 

The commandant’s family nursed me. Mary never left 
me. Of course I took the first opportunity to renew the 
conversation which had been so abruptly interrupted. 
Mary listened to me patiently; she confessed without af- 
fectation the love she bore me, adding that her parents 
would certainly be pleased at tlie prospect of her happi- 
ness. “But,” said she, consider well if your parents will 
offer any obstacles to our union.” 

This set me thinking. I never doubted my mother’s ten- 
derness, but knowing my father’s character and peculiari- 
ties, 1 feared hat the story of my love for Mary won hi 
have little or no effecl on him, that he would treat it 
as folly; so I frankly told this to Mary, resolving at the 
same time to write my father as eloquent a letter as pos- 
sible, asking his blessing. I gave Mary the letter to read; 
she found it so persuasive and touching that she had no 
doubt of its success, and entirely gave herself up to the 
feelings of her tender heart with all the confidence of 
youth and love. 

I made friends with Shvabrin during the first days of 
my convalescence. 

The commandant reproved me for the duel, adding: 
“ I ought to put you under arrest, but you have been 
punished enough already; as to Shvabrin, he is under 
a 


34 


THE CAPTATlir’s BArciHTER. 


lock and key and carefully guarded; he can think over his 
sins and repent.” 

But I was too happy to retain any malignant feelings in 
my heart, and begged for his release. The commandant 
at last decided, with his wife’s consent, to liberate him. 
Shvabrin came to see me and expressed profound sorrow 
for all that had passed between us; he admitted he was 
very guilty and begged me to forget the past. Being of a 
forgiving nature I forgave him both our quarrel and the 
wound he had inflicted on me: In his calumnies I only 
saw anger caused by wounded pride and rejected love. 
I magnanimously made excuses for my unfortunate rival. 

I was soon quite well and able to return to my own 
lodgings. I waited with impatience for my father’s an- 
swer to my letter, hardly daring to hope and trying to 
drown my sorrowful forebodings. I had not as yet 
spoken to Mary’s parents, but my confession of love for 
their daughter could hardly surprise them, for neither I 
nor Mary had tried to hide our feelings, and we felt quite 
certain beforehand of their consent. 

One moping Savielitch entered my room bearing a 
letter in his hands. I seized it with trembling fingers. 
The address was in my father’s handwriting. This pre- 
pared me for something grave, as it was usually my 
mother who wrote to me, my father merely adding a few 
words at the end of her letter. It was a long while before 
I opened it, and I read over and over the solemn inscrip- 
tion: 

“ To my son, Peter Griniofl, 

“ Portress of Bielogorsk, 

Government of Orenburg.” 

I endeavored to guess by the writing what my father’s 
humor was when he wrote the letter. At length I made 
up my mind to open it; and from the very first lines I saw 
that the whole affair had gone to the devil. The contents 
of the letter ran as follows: 

“My Son Peter, — Your letter in which you ask our parental 
blessing and consent to your union with Mary, the daughter of 
Captain ]\Iironoff, we received on the 15th of this month, and not 
only do I refuse to give my blessing, but I consider you deserve a 
good scolding and severe punishment, as if you were a schoolbov 
and without regard to your rank of officer. You have proved your- 
self unworthy of wearing the sword which was given you to fight 


THE CAPTAIK'S DAUGHTER. 


35 


for your country, and not to be used to fight in duels with as good- 
for-nothing a fellow as yourself. Without delay I intend to write 
to my friend General and beg him to remove you as far as pos- 

sible from the fortress of Bielogorsk, when I hope all this love non- 
sense will soon be knocked out of your head. On hearing of your 
duel and wound, your poor mother fell ill and is still in bed. What 
will become of you? I pray God you may reform, although I 
hardly dare hope for so great a mercy. 

“ Your father, 

“ A. G.” 

The perusal of this letter roused in me mingled feel- 
ings; the harsh terms and expressions which my father 
^had not spared, wounded me deeply, and the disdain with 
which he mentioned Maryappeared to me as much out of 
place as it was unmerited. The thought of leaving the 
fortress filled me with grief, but the news of my mother’s 
illness made me saddest of all. I was very angry with 
Savielitch, feeling quite sure, beyond a doubt, thakit was 
he who had informed my parents of the duel. Pacing to 
and fro in my narrow room, I stopped short in front of 
him, and with a menacing look exclaimed: 

see that you are not satisfied with my being wound- 
ed, and being for a whole month on the brink of the 
grave, all through your fault, too; but you want to kill 
my mother into the bargain, I suppose!” 

Savielitch was thunderstruck, 

“ My dear Mr. Peter,” said he, sobbing, what is it 
you say? I the cause of your being wounded! God knows 
I ran and tried to save you with my own body from Mr. 
Slivabrin’s sword, but my cursed years prevented my 
reaching you in time. And what have I done to your 
mother?” 

What have you done?” I replied. 'MVho asks you 
to write reports about me, pray? Are you sent with me 
as a spy?” 

write reports about you!” replied Savielitch in tears, 
^'Good heavens! Master Peter, please read this letter 
your father has written to me, and you will then see if I 
have denounced you.” 

I read as follows: 

“ You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you old rascal, that, not- 
withstanding my strict orders, you have failed to inform me of my 
son’s doings, and I have heard of his wickedness from strangers. 
So this is how you fulfill your duty and carry out your master’s 


36 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


wishes! You deserve to be a keeper of swine, you old dog, you, 
for having concealed the truth from me and for conniving with the 
young man. 

“ On the receipt of this I order you to write to me without delay 
and tell me how he is. I hear he is recovering. Tell me where Lie 
was wounded, and if the wound is healed.” 

It was evident that Savielitch was not to blame, and 
that I had needlessly hurt his feelings by my unjust sus- 
picions and reproaches. I begged his pardon, but the 
poor old man was broken-hearted. 

“This is what I have lived for,” repeated he; “these 
are all the thanks I get as a recompense from my master 
— a keeper of pigs! and I am the cause of your wound, 

too! No, Master Peter, it is not I, but that d d 

Moosoo who is too blame. It was he who taught you to 
stick swords into people, and stamp with your foot, as if 
all that sticking and stamping could protect you from a 
wicked, designing man. Was it worth while to engage 
such a man and waste one’s money to have you taught 
such ways?” 

Who, then, could have taken the trouble to inform my 
father of my actions? The general? But he, to all ap- 
pearance, did not trouble himself about me, and the com- 
mandant would hardly have thought it his duty to report 
my duel. I was lost in conjecture. My suspicions rested 
on Shvabrin; he alone could profit by it, the result being 
my leaving the fortress and the breaking up of my in- 
timacy with the commandant’s family. I went to tell 
Mary all this; she met me on the doorstep. 

“ What is the matter with you?” she exclaimed on see- 
ing me. “ How pale you are!” 

“All is over!” I replied, as I gave her my father’s letter 
to read. 

She turned pale now in her turn. After reading it she 
returned it with a trembling hand, saying in broken ac- 
cents: 

It seems it is not my fate to be your wife. Your 
parents refuse to receive me into their family. G-od’s will 
be done in all things! He knows better than we do what 
is good for us. There is nothing to be done. May you 
at last be happy!” 

“ No! I cannot endure this!” I exclaimed, seizing her 
hand. “lam willing to do anything. Let us go and 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


3r 

throw ourselves at your parents’ feet; they are kind, 
simple folks — not proud and stony-hearted: they at least 
will give us their blessing. You will be my wife, Mary, 
and in time I feel sure that my father will soften toward 
us. My mother will plead for us and he will forgive us.” 

No!” replied Mary, “ I will never marry you without 
the consent and blessing of your parents, for there would 
be no happiness for us. Let us bow to the will of God, 
and should you ever meet another whose fate it is to be 
yours — if you can ever love another — God bless vou both; 
and I ’’ 

Here she broke down completely, overpowered by her 
emotion, and sobbing violently she left me. 

I was about to follow her, but feeling I had no control 
over myself I returned to my lodgings with a sad and 
heavy heart. I was buried in profound meditation when 
all at once Savielitch interrupted my train of thought. 

Here, sir,” said he, ‘^see if I write reports about you 
to my master, or if I wish to make mischief between 
father and son.” 

I took the letter from him. It was Savielitch’s reply to 
my father’s letter. Here it is from beginning to eiid: 

“ Master Andrew, — My Lord, I have received your gracious 
letter, iu which you are pleased to be angered with me, your poor 
slave, saying it is shameful I do not carry out your wishes. I am 
not an old dog, but your faithful servant. I always obey my mas- 
ter’s orders, and have served you faithfully till my hair has grown 
white. I did not write about Mr. Peter’s wound in order not to 
frighten you needlessly. I hear that my dear mistress was so 
alarmed when she heard it that she took to her bed. I pray God 
for her recovery. Mr. Peter was wounded in the right shoulder, 
beneath the collar-bone. The wound was an inch and a half deep. 
He was taken to the commandant’s house and carefully nursed, and 
now, thank God, he is quite well. I can write nothing but in his 
praise. The commandant’s wife treats him like her own son. What 
has happened is no reproach to him ; even a horse with four legs 
stumbles sometimes. If it is your pleasure to send me to feed swine, 

I can only say that my master must do as he will. After this I bow 
to you like a slave. Your faithful servant, 

“ Savielitch.” 

I could hardly refrain from smiling as I read the old 
man’s letter. I was in no mood to write to my father, and 
Savielitch’s letter would her sufficient to appease my dear 
mother’s anxiety. From this time my life was changed. 
Mary hardly ever spoke to me, and did all she could to 


38 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTER. 


avoid me. By degrees I grew accustomed to a life of solitude 
in my own lodgings, where I remained all day. The cap- 
tain’s wife scolded me at first for this, but finding me’ ob- 
stinate, she left me in peace. I only saw the captain when 
on duty. I met Shvabrin rarely and reluctantly, the more 
so as I noticed on his part a hidden aversion to me which 
strengthened my suspicions regarding him. Life became 
unbearable. I fell into a state of gloomy melancholy, 
which was nourished by solitude and idleness. My love 
for Mary grew stronger in my loneliness, and every hour 
increased its bitterness, I lost all taste for literature and 
reading. My spirits drooped, and I feared that I should 
become a madman or a libertime, when sudden and unex- 
pected events, that seriously influenced my life, gave to 
my soul a severe but beneficial shock. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE IMPOSTOR POOGATCHOFF.* 

Before I begin to describe the strange events of which 
I was a witness, I must say a few words about the state of 
the Orenburg province at the end of the year 1773. This 
wide and rich province was inhabited by a multitude of 
half-savage people who liad but lately recognized the sway 
of the Russian sovereign, Catherine II. Their constant 
revolts, their ignorance of laws and civic life, their cruelty 
and barbarous customs, obliged the government to keep a 
strict watch over them to hold them in submission. 

Fortresses were built in convenient spots, peopled 
chiefly by Cossacks, the ancient owners of the Yaitzki 
shores, but the Yaitzki Cossacks, wlio were ordered to 
secure peace and guard the country, had themselves grown 
restless of late, and were dangerous subjects to the govern- 
ment. In the year 1772 a revolt had occurred in the 
chief town; it had arisen from the severe measures taken 
by the Major-General Traubenberg with a view to bring 

* Emelian PoogatchoiT, a Don Cossack, assumed to be the Em- 
peror Peter III. who liad been murdered in 1762. He beaded a re- 
bellion, and was for some time successful in taking fortresses and 
gathering together an immense army of Cossacks. He was behead- 
ed in Moscow. 


THE captain’s daughter. 


39 


the army into due submission. The result was the bar- 
barous murder of Traubenberg, an arbitrary change in the 
administration, and finally, suppression of the rebellion 
by means of grape-shot and the most cruel punishment. 
All this happened shortly before my arrival in the Bie- 
logorski fortress. Everything was quiet, or at last appeared 
to be so; but the authorities had too easily believed in 
the repentance of these wily rebels, who secretly nourished 
revenge and waited patiently for the opportunity of renew- 
ing their disturbances. 

I return to my tale. 

One evening — it was the early part of October, 1773 — 
I was sitting alone in my lodging listening to the autumnal 
wind and watching the moon through my window and 
the clouds that ran over it, when a messenger came to 
summon me to the commandant’s presence. I went with- 
out delay. There I found Mr. Shvabrin, Mr. John, and 
a Cossack under-officer. Neither Mrs. Mironoff nor Mary 
was in the room. The commandant welcomed me with 
a care-worn face. He locked the doors, asked us all to 
be seated except the under-officer, who stood near the 
door; he took a paper from his pocket, saying, Gentle- 
men, here is serious news; listen what the General writes.” 
He put on his spectacles and read as follows: 

“ To the Commandant of the Bielo.corski Fortress, 

“ Captain Mironoff. [Private.] 

‘ ‘ This is to give you warning that the deserter from the Donskoi 
sentry, the Cossack Emelian Poogatcholl, has had tlie unheard-of 
audacity to assume the title and pretend to be the late Emperor 
Peter III. He has gathered together a gang of villains, causing 
rebellion in the Ya'itzki villages, and has already taken and destroyed 
several fortresses, committing pillage and murder. Take all neces- 
sary steps to capture this said villain and impostor and if possible 
effect his destruction should h&^attack the fortress confided to your 
care.” 

Take the necessary steps!” said the commandant, re- 
moving his spectacles and folding the paper. It’s easy 
to talk like that, but the villain appears to be well sup- 
ported, whilst we have only one hundred- and thirty men 
without counting the Cossacks, who are not to be relied 
on. No offense to yon, Maximitch.” The under-officer 
smiled. However, we can do nothing, gentlemen, but 
be on the watch, and order a guard for the night patrol 
in case of an attack, lock the gates, and lead out the 


40 THE captain's DAUGHTER. 

soldiers. You, Maximitch, keep a close watch over the 
Cossacks. Let the cannon be looked to and well cleaned. 
Be careful, above all, to keep all this secret; let nobody 
in the fortress suspect anything.'' 

Having given us these commands. Captain Mironoff dis- 
missed us. I went out with Shvabrin, talking over what 
we had just heard. 

How do you think it will end?" I asked him. 

God knows,” answered, he; ‘‘ we shall see. There is 

nothing very serious in it as yet; but if " Here he 

grew thoughtful and commenced whistling a French air. 

Notwithstanding our circumspection the news of Poo-' 
gatchoff’s expecte’d attack went through the fortress. 
Captain Mironoff, in spite of the high esteem he bore his 
wife, would never have confided to her a state secret. 
When he received the general's letter he very cleverly got 
rid of her by saying that Father Gheracim had received 
most extraordinary tidings from Orenburg, which he 
treated as a great mystery. Mrs. MironoS was instantly 
seized with a desire to pay a visit to the priest's wife, and 
the captain persuaded her to take Mary with her, as it 
would be dull for her at home by herself. 

Captain Mironoff, thus left master of his actions, im- 
mediately sent for us, but locked the girl Palaslika up in 
the lumber-room to prevent her from listening. 

Mrs. Mironoff returned home without having had the 
good fortune to get any news out of the priest's wife, and 
discovered that her husband had held a council during 
her absence and that Palashka had been locked up in the 
lumber-room the while. She guessed that her husband 
had deceived her and desired him to explain his behavior, 
but the captain was prepared for this emergency, and was 
not a bit confused, and bravely answered: You see, my 
dear, the women have taken it into their heads to heat 
their stoves with straw, and as this might lead to some 
mishap, I issued orders forbidding them henceforward to 
use straw and to light their stoves with brushwood.” 

‘MVhat made you lock up Palashka?” asked the cap- 
tain's wife. Why did the poor girl have to remain in 
the lumber-room until our return?” 

The captain was not prepared for this question; he 
grew confused and muttered something that sounded very 
absurd. Mrs. Mironoff saw through her husband's cun- 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


41 


ning, but knowing she could get nothing out of him, 
asked no more questions, and began talking about the 
salted cucumbers that the priest’s wife had a peculiar way 
of preparing. Mrs. Mironoff passed a sleepless uight, 
and could not imagine what secret her husband was keep- 
ing from her. 

Next morning, as she was cominsr home from church, 
she noticed Mr. John cleaning out the cannon of its rags, 
stones, splinters, bones, and all kinds of rubbish with 
which the boys had filled it. What can these warlike 
preparations mean?” thought Mrs. Mironoff; “^do they 
expect an attack from the Kirghese? Surely the captain 
would not keep such nonsense as that from me!” She 
called to Mr. John, determined on getting the secret out 
of him and so appease her woman’s curiosity. Mrs. 
Mironoff made a few remarks about household matters to 
start with, like a counsel beginning the cross-examination 
by indifferent questions, thus lulling to sleep the defend- 
ant’s suspicions. After a pause she gave a deep sigh and 
shaking her head, exclaimed: ‘‘Great Heavens, what 
news! Whatever will become of us all?” 

“ Oh, ma’am,” answered Mr. John, “ don’t be alarmed; 
we have men and plenty of powder. I’ve cleaned out the 
cannon, and we have every chance of repulsing the traitor 
Poogatchoff. With God’s help, the pig sha’n’t eat us up.” 

“ And who is Poogatchoff ?” asked the captain’s wife. 

At this question Mr. John found he had said too much, 
and bit his lip: but it was too late. Mrs. Mironoff forced 
him tell all he knew, promising not to repeat it. Mrs. 
Mironoff kept her word and told nobody except the priest’s 
wife, and that was only because her cow grazed on the 
wilds and might be stolen by the villains. After a short 
time every one talked of Poogatchoff. Ku mors were vari- 
ous. The captain sent the Cossack under- officer on an 
expedition to find out what was going on in the neighbor- 
ing villages. He returned after a few days’ absence, say- 
ing he had heard from the Bashkirs that some strange 
forces were gathering together about forty miles distant 
from the fortress, but he could say nothing positive, as 
he had been afraid to push on further. Among the Cos- 
sacks in the fortress some unusual agitation was noticed 
to be taking place; they gathered in clusters in the streets, 
speaking together in low whispers, and dispersed directly 


42 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTER. 


they saw 'a garrison soldier approaching. Scouts were 
sent to discover what they were after. 

Ulai, a converted Kalmuck, made an important disclos- 
ure to the commandant: he asserted that the Cossack 
under-officer’s report on his return was all a parcel of lies; 
the cunning fellow had related to his fellow-Cossacks that 
he had visited the rebels and had been presented to their 
commander Poogatchoff, whose hand he kissed, and who 
had questioned him at some length about the fortress. 

The commandant had the under-officer arrested imme- 
diately and Ulai took his place. The Cossacks heard this - 
with evident displeasure. They murmured openly, and 
Mr. John with his own ears heard them say: “Wait a 
bit, you old garrison rat!” 

The commandant intended interrogating his prisoner, 
but he escaped from the guardhouse by the help no doubt 
of his accomplices. 

Another event increased the commandant’s uneasiness. 
A Bashkir was caught bearing seditious proclamations. 
On this occasion Captain Mironoif wished to hold another 
council, and therefore tried to get rid of his wife once 
more with some plausible excuse or other. But as the 
captain w’as the most truthful and straightforward man 
under the sun, he could find no other expedient than the 
one he had made use of before. 

“ Do you know, my dear,” said he, “ that Father 
Gheracim has received more news from town, and ” 

“Don’t tell fibs. Captain Mironoff,” interrupted she. 

I suppose you intend holding another council all about 
Emelian Poogatchoff as soon as I am out of hearing, but 
I am, not to be got rid of again, I can tell you!” 

The commandant opened his eyes very wide. 

“ Wellj as you seem to know all about it,” he said, 
“you may remain; we will talk before you.” 

“ This is far more sensible of you,” answered she. 
“You have no cunning in you; you cannot deceive me; 
so send for the officers.” 

We again assembled. The captain read aloud Poogat- 
cholf’s proclamation, which was evidently composed by 
some half-educated Cossack. The villain proclaimed his 
immediate intention of surrounding our fortress with his 
troops, called on the Cossacks to join his army, and ad- 
vised the chiefs to offer no resistance, threatening them 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTER. 4B 

with death if they refused to obey him as their emperor. 
All this was written in rude but expressive language, and 
might have created a dangerous impression on the minds 
of the common people. 

What a scoundrel!” exclaimed the captain’s wife. 
‘‘How dare he propose such a thing — that we should go 
out to meet him, and lay the flag at his feet, son of a dog 
that he is! Doesn’t he know that we have served for forty 
years, and know something of war, thank God. Is it 
possible there have been chiefs who have obeyed the 
wretch ?” 

They say,” added the commandant, “ that the traitor 
has already taken several fortresses.” 

“ It seems he is strong indeed,” remarked Shvabrin. 

“ W^e shall soon find out for ourselves how strong he 
is,” replied the commandant. “ Mrs. Mironoff, give me 
the key of the outhouse. Mr. John, lead hither the 
Bashkir, and tell Ulai to bring tlie lash.” 

“ Stop a moment,” said Mrs. Mironoff, rising, “ and let 
me take Mary away from the house; she will hear the 
screams and be terrified, and I have no taste for torture 
either; so good-by.” 

In days of yore the custom of interrogating prisoners 
had taken such root in the, administration of justice, that 
the beneficent bill which annulled it was along time with- 
out taking effect. It was believed that the full confession 
of the prisoner was indispensable to his conviction, a be- 
lief that was totally averse to judicial common sense, for 
if the denial of guilt on the prisoner’s part is not received 
as proof of his innocence, then his avowal must still less 
serve as a proof of his guilt. Even nowadays many old 
judges regret that this ancient custom is abolished. But 
in those times nobody doubted the necessity of torture, 
neither the judges nor the sufferers themselves; therefore 
the commandant’s orders did not astonish or alarm any 
one. 

Mr. John led in the Bashkir, who stepped over the 
threshold with an effort, for he wore an iron clog. He 
took off his cap and stood near the door. I looked up at 
him and shuddered. I shall never forget this man. He 
appeared to be over seventy, and was without ears and 
without a nose! His head w'as bald, a few white hairs 
stuck out of his chin. He was short, emaciated, and bent 


44 THE captatk’s daughter. 

almost double, but his eyes still flashed with unquenched 
fire. 

‘^HoP said the commandant, who saw by the man’s 
frightful scars that he was one of the rebels who had had 
their ears and noses cut oft in the year 1741. It seems 
you are an old wolf and have been caught in our trap be- 
fore; it’s not the first time I see, you rebel. Come near- 
er, and say who sent you here.” 

The old" Bashkir remained silent, and looked at the 
commandant with an air of total idiocy. 

Why don’t you speak?” continued the captain. 

Can’t you say one word of Kussian? Ulai, talk to him 
in your language. Ask him who sent him as a spy to 
our fortress.” 

Ulai repeated the commandant’s words in the Tartar 
language, but the Bashkir continued to stare at him with 
the same idiotic expression, and spoke not a word. 

By heaven!” said the commandant, but you shall 
speak. Here, boys, off with his ridiculous striped gown, 
and let his back be well lashed. Mind, Ulai, go at it 
bravely.” 

The soldiers began to undress the rebel Bashkir. 
The miserable man’s face expressed uneasiness. He turn- 
ed about just like a small animal that is caught by chil- 
dren, and when Ulai took up the whip, brandishing it in the 
air, the Bashkir groaned in a feeble supplicating tone, and 
nodded his head, and opened ,his mouth, in which was 
moving, not a tongue, but a short bit of flesh! 

When I remember that this happened in my time, and 
that I have since lived to see the peaceful reign of Alex- 
ander L, I cannot but wonder at the rapid progress of 
civilization. Should my tale over fall into your hands, 
young men of Russia, remember that the best and most 
solid changes are those proceeding from improved laws 
and customs without any violent measures. 

Every one of us was astounded. 

Well,” exclaimed the commandant, it’s very evident 
there’s nothing to be got out of him. Ulai, take the 
Bashkir back to the outhouse, and we will remain, gentle- 
men, and talk over a few matters.” 

AVe then discussed our present position, when Mrs. 
Mironoff suddenly burst in, breathless and agitated. 

What is the matter ?” asked the astounded husband. 


THE captain’s daughter. 


45 


^‘Oh, such dreadful news! The fortress of Nijniozior- 
na has been taken this very morning. A workman has just 
returned from there. He witnessed the attack, and fort- 
unately escaped. The commandant and officers are all 
hanged; the soldiers taken prisoners. The villains may 
be here at any moment.” 

This unexpected and sad news greatly astounded me. 
The commandant of the JSTijnioziorna fortress was a 
nice young fellow, an acquaintance of mine. Two 
months previously he had passed through our fortress, 
with his young wife, on their way to Orenburgf and had 
stopped at the Mironoft^s house. Their fortress was 
about twenty-five miles distant from ours. We might 
hourly expect Poogatchoft to fall on us. Mary’s fate 
rose up vividly before me, and my heart sank. 

Listen to me, captain,” said I to the commandant. 
‘^It is our duty to defend the fortress with our last breath, 
but we must think above all of the women’s safety. Send 
them to Orenburg, if the roads be still clear, or to one of 
the more distant and safe fortresses where the villains will 
not go.” 

The captain turned to his wife, saying: I really think, 
my dear, it will be wiser for you to go as far away as pos- 
sible until we settle these rebels.” 

Nonsense!” said she. And pray where is the fortress 
that cannon-balls can’t reach? And why is ours not a 
safe one? We have lived in it for twenty years, thank 
God. We have withstood Bashkirs and Kirghese; I hope 
we shall settle this rebel Poogatchoff too.” 

‘‘ Well, my dear, stay here if you like,” replied the cap- 
tain. But what shall we do with Mary? It’s all very 
well if we do hold out against them, or if we get help 
from Orenburg; but if the rebels take the fortress, why 
then ” 

Here Mrs. Mironofif seemed suddenly to realize the hor- 
rors of the situation, and Was greatly agitated. 

“No, Mrs MironoJBf,” continued the captain, noticing 
the effect his words were producing, for the first time in 
his life perhaps, on his wife. “It’s not proper for Mary 
to remain in such danger. Let us send her to her grand- 
mother’s at Orenburg, there are plenty of soldiers and 
cannon there, and stone ramparts into the bargain. I ad- 
vise you to accompany her, for although an old woman, 


46 


THE CAPTAIh’s DAUGHTEE. 


you will see what will befall you should the fortress be 
taken by assault.” 

Yes, let us send Mary away, but da not dream of my 
leaving you; do not ask me for I can never go. Why 
should I part from you in my old age to seek a solitary 
grave amongst strangers? We have lived together; let us 
die together.” 

Eight!” said the commandant; but there’s no time 
to lose; get Mary ready for her journey. She must start 
early in the morning; we must give her an escort, al- 
though %e have no men to spare. But where is the 
child?” 

With the priest’s wife,” answered Mr. Mironoff. She 
fainted on hearing the dreadful news. I fear she will fall 
ill. Great Heavens! what have we come to?” 

Mrs. Mironoff went to busy herself with preparations 
for her*daughter’s departure. The conversation continued 
on the same topic, but I took no part in it, and did not 
even listen. Mary appeared at supper- time, looking pale, 
and her face was swollen and tear-stained. We supped in 
silence, and rose from table earlier than usual, wishing 
the family good-night and going home. But I purposely 
forgot to take my sword, and went back to fetch it. I 
had a presentiment that I should find Mary alone, and 
she did meet me at the door and handed me my sword. 
‘^‘Good-by, Mr. Grinioff,” said she through her tears; 
they send me away to Orenburg. Be well and happy. 
Perhaps, if God wills it, we may yet meet again: if 

not ” " ' 

Here she sobbed aloud. I clasped her to my heart. 
‘^Good-by, my angel,” said I; ^‘good-by, my dearest, 
my own darling girl! Whatever happens to me, d6n’t 
forget that my last thought and my last prayer will be for 
you.” 

. Mary lay sobbing on my breast. I kissed her passion- 
ately and hastily left the house. 


CHAPTER V1I.| 

• THE ASSAULT. 

That night I neither undressed nor went to bed. 
At day-break I intended to go to the gates of the fortress 
through which Mary had to pass, and wish her good-by 


THE captain's DACGHTER. 47 

for the last time. I felt a great change within me; the 
agitation of my soul was somewhat quieted. The sadness 
of parting was mixed up with indistinct but sweet hopes, 
and my heart throbbed with an impatient expectation of 
danger and the feeling of a noble ambition. Night came 
on quickly. I was just leaving my hut when my door 
opened, and a corporal presented himself, with the an-, 
nouncement that our Cossacks had left the fortress during 
the night, taking Ulai with them, much against his will^ 
and that strange* looking men were prowling round the 
fortress. The thought that Mary would not be able to 
start shot through me with a pang. I gave the corporal 
a few hurried instructions and dashed off to the com- 
mandant’s house. Day was dawning. As I flew along 
the street I heard some one calling me; I stopped. 

‘‘Where are you going?” asked Mr. John, overtaking 
me. “ The captain is on the ramparts, and sent me to 
fetch you. Poogatchoff has come.” 

“ Is Mary gone?” I asked, with a beating heart. 

“ It was too late,” said Mr, John; “the road to Oren- 
burg is cut off, the fortress is surrounded; it is a bad look- 
out, Mr. Grinioff.” 

We went to the ramparts, a piece of elevated ground 
formed by nature itself, and was fortified by a wooden in- 
clcsure. All the inhabitants of the fortress had already 
assembled there. The garrison stood armed with guns. 
The cannon had been placed there on the preceding day. 

. The commandant was walking to and fro before his small 
troop of soldiers. The proximity of danger was animat- 
ing the old warrior with extraordinary vigor. Some 
twenty men or more were riding over the plain, not far 
distant from the fortress. They looked like Cossacks, 
but amongst them some Bashkirs might easily .be dis- 
cerned by their fur caps. The commandant walked round 
hi* troops, addressing his soldiers thus: “Well, boys, let 
us think of our good mother the Empress, and prove to 
the w’hole world that we are brave men and true to our 
oath!” The soldiers cheered in loud protestations of their 
Z3al. Shvabrin stood next to me, attentively watching 
tie enemy. The men who rode across the plain, noticing 
tie commotion in the fortress, crowded together, and be- 
^n speaking to each other. The commandant ordered 
Nr. John to aim the cannon’s mouth at this group of 


48 


THE CAPTAIH^S DAUGHTER. 


rebels, whilst he himself lit the fuse. The cannon-ball 
whizzed and flew over their heads, without wounding 
them. The riders dispersed and rode away into the far 
distance. The plain was deserted. 

Mrs. Mironofl now appeared on the ramparts, followed 
by Mary, who did not wish to be left behind. 

'"“Well,” said the captain’s wife, “how is the battle 
going on, and where is the enemy?” 

“The enemy is not far off,” said the captain, “but 
with God’s help all will yet be well. Are you frightened, 
Mary?” 

“No, papa!” answered Mary; “but it would be more 
awful to stay at home quite by myself.” She glanced at' 
me as she said this, and made an effort to smile. My 
hand involuntarily pressed the hilt of my sword, for 1 
remembered that 1 had received it yesterday evening from 
her own hands, as though for the purpose of protecting 
her, my beloved. My heart was burning within me, and 
I fancied myself her true knight. I longed to prove to 
her that I was worthy of her confidence, and I awaiteii 
the decisive moment with impatience. ^ 

At this instant, from behind the heights, which wefe 
more than half a mile distant from the fortress, appear<|d 
a body of horsemen, and then the plain was covered wifli 
a multitude of men, armed with lances, crossbows and 
quivers, Amongst them, riding a white horse, was a man 
in a red kaftan, holding a drawn sword in his hand. This 
was Poogatchoff himself. He halted; his men surrounded 
him, and we could guess that, obedient to his orders, foyr 
men left the crowd, and rode at full speed to the vel'y 
gates of the fortress. We recognized them as our traitor 
Cossacks. One of them held a printed proclamation high 
above his head. Another bore on the point of his lanbe 
the head of Ulai, which he shook and threw at us ovjsr 
the barricade. The poor Kalmuck’s head fell at the coii- 
mandant’s feet. The traitors shouted: 

“Don’t fire, but come out and meet the Emperor. Tlie 
Emperor is here.” 

“You shall have it,” shouted the captain in repli 
“Fire, boys! fire!” 

Our men opened fire. The Cossack who bore the prc- 
clamation staggered and fell from his horse. The rest 
turned back and fled. I glanced toward Mary, wh) 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


49 


seemed turned to stone. She was awe-struck at the sight 
of the gray head of Ulai, and deafened by the shouts of 
t*he rebels. The commandant called to the corporal, or- 
dering him to go and take the proclamation from the 
dead Cossack’s hand. He went into the field and re- 
turned, leading by the bridle the dead man’s horse. He 
lianded the paper to the commandant, who read it and 
tore it in pieces. Meanwliile the rebels were ready for 
action. The balls came whizzing round our heads, and* 
several posts of the barricade fell near us to the ground. 

‘^Mrs. Mironoff,” said the commandant, ‘Hhis is no 
place for women; take Mary away.” 

Mrs. Mironoff grew accustomed to the firing, looked 
toward the plain, where a great commotion was noticea- 
ble; then turning to her husband she said: 

Life and death are in God’s hands; give Mary your 
blessing. Mary, go to your father.” 

Mary, who was pale and trembling, approached her 
father, and fell at his feet. . The old man blessed her 
thrice, then lifted her up and kissed her, saying in an 
altered voice* 

AVell, Mary, trust in God, and He will not abandon 
you. If you find a good husband, try and live as I and 
your mother have lived. And now farewell, my child. 
Make haste and take her away, my dear.” Mary fell on 
his neck, sobbing. 

Let us also embrace,” said the commandant’s wife, 
weeping. ‘‘Farewell, my dear husband; forgive me if I 
have ever caused you pain.” 

The commandant embraced her, saying: 

“ Go home quickly, and if you have time, disguise Mary 
as a peasant girl.” 

The captain’s v/ife and daughter left the ramparts. I 
stood gazing after Mary, who looked round and smiled 
sadly. The commandant now turned his attention to us 
and the enemy. The rebels flocked round their leader 
and suddenly dismounted from their horses. , 

“ Stand fast,” said the commandant; “ there will be an 
assault.” 

At this instant frightful yells and screams were heard; 
the rebels rushed toward the fortress. Our cannon was 
loaded with grape-shot. The commandant allowed them 
to ax)proach quite close and then fired again. The shot 


50 


THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 


struck into the very middle of the crowd; the rebels parted 
and fell back. Their leader alone remained in front; he 
brandished his sword and seemed to warm their courage. 
The screams and yells which had for a moment been 
silenced, broke out afresh. 

‘^Now, my boys, open the gates and beat the drums! 
Forward! follow me into the field!’’ 

In an instant the commandant, Mr. John, and I found 
'ourselves on the other side of the ramparts, but our 
affrighted soldiers did not stir. 

‘‘Why don’t you come, my men?” shouted the com- 
mandant. “ Let us die if we must; it is a soldier’s 
duty!” 

Just then the rebels made a rush at us, and forced 
their way into the fortress. The drums ceased to beat, 
the garrison threw down their guns. I was knocked 
down, but soon got up again, and entered the fortress 
with the rebels. The commandant, sword in hand, was 
standing surrounded by a group of rebels, who ordered 
him to give up the keys. I hastened to his aid, but sev- 
eral swarthy Cossacks seized and bound me with their 
sashes, saying the while: “You will be paid out for dis- 
obeying the Emperor.” We were dragged through the 
streets. The inhabitants actually came out to welcome 
the rebels, bearing bread and salt. The bells were ring- 
ing. Suddenly aery arose in the crowd that the Emper- 
or was waiting to see the prisoners and to receive every 
one’s oath in allegiance. The crowd hurried to the Square; 
we were also dragged there. Poogatclioff was seated in 
an arm-chair on the doorstep of the commandant’s house. 
He wore a splendid Cossack coat trimmed with gold braid; 
a high sable cap with gold tassels was drawn over his glit- 
tering eyes. His face seemed familiar to me. His Cos- 
sack chiefs surrounded him. Father Gheracirn, pale and 
trembling, stood on the door step, holding a cross in his 
hand, and seemed silently to implore for mercy on behalf 
of the poor victims. A gibbet had been hastily erected 
in the square. At our approach the Bashkirs kept back 
the crowd, and we were presented to Poogatclioff. The 
bells ceased ringing; a profound silence ensued. 

“Which of them is the commandant,” asked the im- 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTER. 51 

Onr under officer designated Captain Mironoff. Poogat- 
choff looked sternly at the old man and said: 

How dared you resist me, your Emperor!” 

The commandant, exhausted from his wounds, gathered 
his failing strength and replied in a firm voice: 

‘‘You are not my Emperor, but a thief and an im- 
postor.” 

Poogatchoff frowned heavily and waved his white hand- 
kerchief. Several Cossacks seized the poor old man and 
dragged him to the gibbet. Astride on its cross-beam sat 
the maimed Bashkir who had been questioned by us the 
day before. He held a rope in his hand, and a minute 
later I saw poor Captain Mironoff swinging in the air. 
Mr. John was then led up to Poogatchoffi 

“Take your oath of allegiance to me, your Emperor,” 
said the latter. 

“ You are not my Emperor,” said Mr. John, repeating 
the words of his commandant; “you, my man, are a thief 
and an impostor!” 

Poogatchoff again waved his handkerchief, and the 
good lieutenant was hanged near his old commander. 

It was my turn now. I looked boldly at Poogatchoff, 
and was prepared to repeat my brave comrade’s words. 
At this moment, to my indescribable amazement, I per- 
ceived Shvabrin amidst the rebel gang, with his hair 
cropped short and in Cossack dress. He drew near 
Poogatchoff and whispered in his ear. 

“Hang him!” said Poogatchoff, without as much as 
looking at me. 

A rope was thrown around my neck; I said a prayer, 
asking God to forgive my sins, and implored him to save 
my nearest and dearest. I was dragged beneath the 
gi bbet. 

“ Don’t be frightened! Don’t be frightened!” repeated 
my tormentors, perhaps with a genuine wish to give me 
courage. 

Suddenly I heard a cry: 

“Stop! accursed scoundrel, stop!” The hangman 
stopped. I looked up and saw Savielitch lying at Poogat- 
choff ’s feet. 

“ Oh! my good sir,” said my poor old servant, “how 
cah the child’s death profit you? Let him go to his 


52 


THE captain's DAUGHTER. 


parents; they will give you a l^eavy ransom for him, and 
you can hang me instead, an old man.’’ 

Poogatchotf made a sign, and I was immediately re- 
leased. 

^‘Our sovereign forgives you,” they said to me. 

I can’t say that at the moment I felt glad for my de- 
liverance, but I can’t say either that I felt sorry for it. 
My feelings were much perplexed. I was again taken be- 
fore the impostor, and forced to kneel to him. Poogat- 
cholf stretched out his sinewy hand to me. 

Kiss his hand! kiss his hand!” I heard whispered 
around; but I would have preferred the most cruel tort- 
ure to abject humiliation. 

^‘My dear Master Peter!” whispered Savielitch, stand- 
ing behind and pushing me, “don’t be obstinate! Spit, 
and kiss the dog; kiss his hand.” 

But I did not stir. Poogatchoff dropped his hand, 
saying with a sneer: 

“It seems his honor has lost his wits for very joy. 
Help him to rise.” 

I was assisted to my feet and set free. I stood await- 
ing the end of this dreadful comedy. All the inhabitants 
were sworn in; they approached the impostor one after 
another, first kissing the crucifix, then kneeling to him. 
The garrison-scldiers were also present; the regimental 
tailor, armed with his blunt scissors, was cutting off their 
pigtails. They shook their heads, and went to kiss the 
impostor’s hand; he pardoned them, and received them 
into his gang. All this lasted upward of three hours. 
At last Poogatchoff rose from his arm-chair and descended 
the steps, accompanied by his chiefs. A white horse 
with rich trappings was tied up at the door. Two Cos- 
sacks assisted him to mount. He announced to Father 
Gheracim that he would dine with him. At this moment 
a woman’s piercing shriek was heard. Several rebels 
dragged Mrs. Mironoff from the house, disheveled and 
stark naked. One of the scoundrels had already dressed 
himself up in her clothes; others were carrying off feather- 
beds, trunks, plate, linen, and all kinds of lumber. 

“ Great heavens!” exclaimed the poor old lady, “ have 
mercy on me! For God’s sake, take me to my husband!” 

All of a sudden she glanced up at the gibbet, and saw 
her husband hanging there. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


53 


Villains!” she screamed, quite beside herself with 
grief, ‘Svhat have you done? Dear captain, light of 
iny eyes, brave soldier! Prussian bayonets and Turkish 
bullets have spared you; it is not in fair fight you have 
lost your life; you have perished by the hand of an es- 
caped convict!” 

Silence the old witch,” said Poogatchoff. 

A young Cossack pierced her through the heart with 
his sword. She fell dead on the doorstep. Poogatchof 
rode away, followed by the crowd. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

THE SURPRISE. 

“ An unexpected guest is worse tlian a Tartar .” — An old saying. 

The square was deserted; 1 stood rooted to the spot, 
unable to collect my thoughts, which had been disturbed 
by such horrible scenes. My uncertainty as to Mary’s 
fate tormented me beyond anything else. Where was slm? 
What had happened to her? Had she found time to. hide 
herself? Was her place of refuge a safe one? Full of 
these alarming thoughts I entered the commandant’s 
house; everything looked desolate. Chairs, tables, trunks, 
all were smashed! Everything of value had been stolen. 
I ran up the narrow staircase leading to the attic, and for 
the first time found myself in Mary’s bedroom. I noticed 
that the bed had been pulled in pieces by the villains, 
cupboards broken open, and everything stolen. The lamp 
was still burning in front of the saint’s image. The small 
mirror hanging between the windows had not been 
touched. But where was the mistress of this humble 
virgin retreat? A terrible thought shot through my 
mind; I pictured her in the hands of the rebels. My heart 
stopped beating, I burst into a flood of tears,, and uttered 
aloud the name of my beloved. At this instant I heard 
a slight noise, and Palashka appeared from behind the 
cupboard, pale and trembling. 

Oh, Mr. Griniofl!” she said, clasping her hands, 
what a day this has been! What terrible things have 
happened !” 

But Mary?” I asked impatiently; where is Mary?” 


64 


THE CAPTAIK’S DAUGHTER. 


My young lady is alive,” said Palaslika; she is hid- 
ing in the priest’s house.” 

‘‘At the priest’s!” I exclaimed in terror. “My God! 
Poogatchoff is there!” 

1 rushed from the house, and the next moment I 
found myself in the street, running toward the priest’s 
house, seeing and feeling nothing. Shouts of laughter 
and singing were heard from withjn. Poogatchoff was 
feasting with his comrades. Palaslika ran behind me. I 
quietly sent her to fetch the priest’s wife, who immediately 
came into the ante-room with an empty brandy bottle in 
her hand. 

“For God’s sake, tell me where Mary is?” I asked with 
indescribable emotion. 

“ She is on my bed, the poor thing, behind the parti- 
tion wall,” replied the priest’s wife. “ Do you know, Mr. 
Grinioff, she had a very narrow escape just now; but, 
thank God, it passed off pretty well. The villain had just 
sat down to dinner when the poor thing, just recovering 
from her swoon, gave such a groan behind the partition. 
I was half-dead with fright. He heard the groan. ‘ Who 
have you got groaning there, old woman?’ said he. I 
made a low courtesy to the brute. ‘My niece, your maj- 
esty,’ said I; ‘she is ill, and has kept her bed this fort- 
night.’ ‘And is your niece young?’ ‘ She is young, your 
majesty.’ ‘Well, old woman, let me see her then.’ My 
heart sank within me, but there was no help for it. ‘Very 
well, your majesty; but the girl is not able to come before 
your gracious presence.’ ‘Never mind that, old woman, 
I will go myself and see her.’ And he actually went be- 
hind the screen, and, confound him! what do you think? 
he drew back the curtains and peered at her witli his 
hawk-like eyes; and that was all, thank God! Would you 
believe it, my husband and I were already preparing to die 
like martyrs, and it was such a blessing that the poor dear 
did not recognize him. What have we come to? Good 
heavens! Poor Mrs. Mironoff! who v/ould have thought 
it? And the commandant too, and Mr. John! AVhatdid 
they kill him for? How did you manage to escape? And 
what do you think of Mr. Shvabrin’s treachery, cutting 
his hair in that round fashion and feasting there with the 
rebels? I must say he was in a precious hurry about it. 
And when I mentioned my sick niece he threw such a 


THE CAPTAIH'S DAUGHTER. 


55 


look at me that it went through me like so many daggers; 
but he didn’t betray me, thanks to him for that at least.” 

At this moment noises and shouts of drunken voices 
were heard. The priest called to his wife that more wine 
was wanted. 

‘‘ Go home, Mr. Grinioff,” she said, I have no time 
to talk to yon. The villains are drinking hard. God for- 
bid they should see you now, they are all drunk. Good' 
by; what will be, will be. Heaven will help us, I trust!” 

She left me. Feeling somewhat comforted, I returned 
to my lodgings. Passing through the square, I saw sev- • 
^eral Bashkirs crowded round the gibbet, and dragging off 
the boots from the corpses’ feet. With great effort I 
mastered an outburst of indignation which seized me; 
but feeling the utter helplessness of interference, I re- 
frained. The scoundrels were running through the whole 
fortress, sacking the place. • Screams and yells from the 
drunken rebels resounded. I arrived home. Savielitch 
met me on the threshold. 

‘‘Thank God!” he exclaimed on seeing me; “I was 
, afraid the rascals had got hold of you again. Oh, my 
dear Master Peter, only think! The wretches have robbed 
us of all we had — dress, linen, plate; nothing is left. But 
never mind the things. Thank God, they have let you 
off alive. Did you recognize the rebel chief. Master 
Peter?” 

“Ho, I didn’t; who is he?” 

“ Don’t you know him? Have you forgotten the drunk- 
en t^’amp who got your hareskin coat from you at the 
inn? Quite a new hareskin into the bargain; and the beast 
split all the seams when he j)ut it on.’^ 

I felt amazed. This man’s likeness to Poogatchoff was 
indeed striking. I now felt assured that he and Poogat- 
choff were one and the same man, and began to under- 
stand why he had shown me. so much mercy. I could not 
help wondering at this extraordinary circumstance: a boy’s 
hareskin coat, given to a tramp, had saved me from the 
halter, and a drunken tramp, a frequenter of taverns in 
the steppes, was now taking fortresses and shaking the 
kingdom! 

“ Won’t you have something to eat?” asked Savielitch, 
unchangeable and unchanged in his habits. There is 


56 


THE CAPTAIK S DAUGHTER. 


nothing to be had at'home; I will go and seek something 
for you.” 

Left alone, I plunged into serious reflection. What 
was I to do? Remain in the fortress in the villain’s 
power, and follow his rebel gang, was not an act worthy of 
an officer. Duty bade me go where my services would 
still be of use to. my country under the present trying 
circumstances; but love spoke strongly in favor of my re- 
maining near Mary, to be her defender and protector, al- 
though I foresaw that events would no doubt take another 
turn very shortly; yet it was impossible not to tremble 
whem I thought of the dangers of her position. 

My meditations were interrupted by the arrival of a 
Cossack, who ran in announcing that the great Emperor 
summoned me to his presence. 

‘‘ Where is he?” I asked, preparing to obey the summons. 

‘^In the commandant’s house,” replied the Cossack. 

After dinner our sovereign went to the bath. Well, 
your honor, everything proves him to be a great personage; 
he ate up two whole roasted sucking pigs for dinner, and 
in the bath he steams himself to such a degree that even 
Koorotchkin could bear it no longer, and gave up his 
scrubbing-brush to Bickbarff, whilst he refreshed himself 
by a ducking in cold water. What grand ways the Em- 
peror has! And they say that in the bath he showed them 
the marks of sovereignty on his chest — a two-headed eagle 
on one side, and his own likeness on the other.” 

I did not think it worth while to contradict the Cos- 
sack’s remarks, and accompanied him to the command- 
ant’s house, trying to picture to myself what my inter- 
view with Poogatchofl would result in. The reader will 
easily understand that I did not feel very easy in mind. 

Night wa,s near at hand as I reached his house. The 
gibbet, with its victims, looked ominously dark. The 
body of the poor captain’s wife was still lying on the 
doorstep, where two Cossacks stood as sentries. The Cos- 
sack who accompanied me went in to announce me, and 
returned immediately, showing me into the very room 
where the previous evening 1 had taken such a" tender 
farewell of Mary. An extraordinary spectacle met my 
gaze: near a table, covered with white cloth, on which 
stood numerous brandy-bottles and tumblers, sat Poogatch- 


THE captain's daughter. 


57 


off with ten of his chiefs, all attired in colored shirts and 
having their caps on; their eyes flashed, their faces were 
inflamed with wine. Neither of the traitors, Shvabrin nor 
the iinder-officer, was there. 

Ah, your honor,’’ said Poogatchoff, perceiving me; 
^‘welcome, and pray be seated.” 

His companions drew a little nearer together. I sat 
down in silence at the end of the table. My neighbor, a 
young Cossack, well built and handsome, poured me out 
a glass of brandy, which I did not touch. I began to 
scrutinize the company with curiosity. Poogatchoff oc- 
cupied the place of honor, his elbow resting on the table, 
his black- bearded chin supported by his clinched fist. 
His features were regular, rather pleasant in fact, and had 
nothing fierce about them. Everybody seemed to be on 
equal terms, and showed no particular deference to their 
leader. The conversation, turned on the morning’s as- 
sault, on the success of the rebellion, and on future plans. 
Each one boastingly gave his opinion and freely contra- 
dicted Poogatchoff. It was during this extraordinary 
council of war they decided to proceed to Orenburg, a 
daring enterprise, which was very nearly crowned with 
success! The campaign was fixed for the next day. 

^^Now, my friends,” said Poogatchoff, ‘‘before we re- 
tire to sleep let us sing my favorite song. You begin, 
Tchoomakoff.” 

My neighbor began singing in a high key to a most 
melancholy tune, whilst everybody joined in the chorus: 

Do not rustle, you old forest green. 

Do not trouble the youngster’s thoughts. 

For to-morrow the youngster goes 
To the judge severe, to tlie king himself. 

Then the sovereign* king will question him-. 

Tell me, youngster, son of peasant bold. 

With whom did you murder and rob for gold. 

And how many comrades more had you?” 

“ Now I will tell you, good faithful king. 

The whole truth before you 1 will bring — 

That I in truth four comrades had : 

My first comrade was the deep, dark night, 

' My second a sharply-edged steel knife, 

' My third comrade was my noble steed, 

‘ My forth was my arrow that flew with speed, 

' And for messengers they always served.” 

; Then our true orthodox king will say; 


58 THE captain’s dauqhter. 

“ Honor to thee, bold peasant’s son, 

Thou canst bo1;h rob and answer well, 

I will therefore reward thee, brave young man. 

With an edifice high amidst the wide fields. 

Which has two long posts and a cross-beam too.” 

It is impossible to describe the effect that this popular 
gallows song, sung by men fated to be Iianged, had on 
me. Their fierce faces, fine voices, the melancholy ex- 
pression they gave to the words, so expressive in them- 
selves — all this struck me with a kind of poetical awe. 

The Cossack chiefs tossed off another glass each, rose 
from the table, and took leave of Poogafcchoff. I wanted 
to follow them, but Poogatchoff said, Sit still, I want 
to speak to you.” We were alone. For several moments 
the silence was unbroken; Poogatchoff looked at me fix- 
edly, now and then winking his left eye with a wonderful 
expression of roguery and sarcasm. All at once he burst 
into a laugh so genuine in its mirth that I too began to 
laugh without very well knowing why. 

‘‘ Well, your honor,” said he to me, ‘^confess that you 
were very much frightened when my men threw the noose 
round your neck. I am certain that the sky itself looked 
like a nutshell to you at that moment. Indeed, you 
would be swinging on the cross-beam now but for your 
old servant. I knew the old dog directly. Now, your 
honor little guessed that tho man who showed you the 
way to the inn during the snow-storm was the great Em- 
peror himself.” Here lie put on a solemn and mysterious 
look. “ You have offended me deeply,” he continued, 

but I have spared you on account of that kind action, 
because you did me a good turn when I was compelled to 
evade my enemies. Wait awhile. You shall receive bet- 
ter things at my hands when I get my kingdom back 
again! Will you promise to serve me faithfully?” 

The rascaFs question and his audacity amused me so 
much that I could not help smiling. 

“ Why do you smile?” he said, with a frown; don’t 
you believe me to be the great Emperor? Answer mo 
frankly.” 

I was confused, being quite unable to acknowledge this 
impostor as my Emperor. This seemed to me unpardon- 
able cowardice, yet to call him an impostor to his face 
was simply exposing myself to ruin, and what I had been 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


59 


prepared to say at the gibbet, in the face of the whole 
populace, when heated with indignation, now seemed a 
useless boast. I hesitated. Poogatchoff was gloomily 
awaiting my answer. At last (and even now I remember 
that moment with a feeling of satisfaction) duty triumphed 
over human weakness, and I answered thus: 

‘‘ Listen, and I will tell you the exact truth. If you 
consider for one moment, you will see that I could not rec- 
ognize you as my Emperor; you are a clever man, and 
would know at once that I am only pretending to do so.” 

Who am I then, in your opinion?” 

^ ‘‘ God only knows; but whoever you are, you are play- 
ing a dangerous game.” 

Poogartchoff gave me a sharp glance. 

'^So you don’t believe,” said he, “ that I am the Em- 
peror Peter. Very good. But is there then no reward for 
daring? Did not Grishka Ottrepieff reign in days of yore? 
Think what you will of me, but do not leave me. What 
can the rest matter to you? Serve me faithfully, and I 
will make you a field-marshal and a prince. What do you 
say to that?” 

‘‘ Eo,” I answered firmly; I am a gentleman born and 
bred. I swore fidelity to our Empress, and I cannot serve 
•you. If you really want to do me a kindness, let me go 
to Orenburg.” 

Poogatchoff became thoughtful. « 

And if I let you go,” said he, will you promise never 
to fight against me?” 

How can I promise that?” I replied; you know very 
well that I am not free, and if I am ordered to fight 
against you I shall be compelled to do so. You yourself 
are a chief now, and exact obedience from your followers. 
What would you think of me if I were to refuse to serve 
wlien my services were needed? My life is in your hands: 
if you set me free, many thanks to you; if you put me to 
death, God will be your judge. I have only spoken truth.” 

My frankness struck l^ogatchoff. 

‘^Be it so,” said he, clapping me on the shoulder; 
'Svhen I punish I punish, when I pardon I pardon freely. 
You are free to go where you wish and do what you please. 
Come and bid me good-by to-morrow; and now go; I feel 
quite sleepy.” 

I left him, and went into the street; the night was frosty 


60 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTEK. 


and quiet; the moon and the stars shone brightly, light- 
ing up the square and gallows. In the fortress all was 
silent and dark; the tavern alone was lit up, and resound- 
ed with the yells of the late revelers. I glanced toward 
the priest’s house; the shutters were closed; everything 
there seemed quiet. 

I arrived at my lodgings, and found Savielitch sorrow- 
ing at my prolonged absence; the news of my freedom 
gave him inexpressible joy. 

‘'Thank God!” said he, crossing himself; "we will 
leave the fortress at dawn of day, and go wherever we 
like. 1 have prepared a meal for you; eat, and then lie 
down in peace till morning.” 

I followed his advice, and having greatly enjo*yed my 
supper I went to sleep on the bare floor, tired out phys- 
ically and mentally. 


CHAPTER IX." 

THEPARTIHG. 

Early next morning I woke with the beating of the 
drum; I went to the place of muster, and Poogatchoff’s 
men were already there. 

Yesterday’s victims, were still hanging there. The 
mounted Cossacks and foot-soldiers presented arms. Sev- 
eral cannons, among which I noticed ours, were placed on 
gun carriages. All the inhabitants had assembled to 
await the impostor’s arrival. Near the door of the com- 
mandant’s house a Cossack held the bridle of a splendid 
white horse of Kirghese breed. I looked for the body of 
the captain’s wife, which had been removed and covered 
with a rug. At length Poogatchoff came out; the people 
all took off their hats, whilst he stood on the steps and 
saluted. One of his chiefs handed him a bag of coppers, 
and he threw handfuls to the right and left. The crowd 
pressed forward to pick them up, and several were injured 
in the scuffle. Poogatchofl was then surrounded by his 
favorite -chiefs. Shvabrin was amongst them; our eyes 
met; he read contempt in mine, and turned away with an 
expression of deep hatred. Poogatchoff, noticing me in 
the crowd, nodded and beckoned me to approach. 

" Listen,” said he, " start immediately for Orenburg, 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


61 


and announce to the governor they may expect me in a 
week; advise them to receive me with brotherly love and 
obedience, otherwise they won’t escape torture and a cruel 
death. A pleasant journey to your honor!” 

He then turned to the people, and pointing to Shva- 
brin, said: 

Here, boys, is your new commandant; obey him in 
everything, and he will be answerable to me for you and 
the fortress.’* 

I listened to these words with a wild horror. Shvabrin 
made commandant of the fortress, Mary remained in his 
power. Good God! what would become of her? Poo- 
gatchoff descended the steps; his horse was brought to him. 
He sprang lightly into the saddle without waiting for the 
Cossack to assist him. 

At this momeni I noticed my servant Savielitch step, 
out of the crowd, and approaching Poogatchoff, present 
him with a piece of paper. I wondered what would fol- 
low next. 

‘‘What is this?” asked Poogatchoff with an air of im- 
portance. 

“ Be so good as to read it and then you will know,” 
answered Savielitch. 

Poogatchoff took the paper, and looked at it some time 
with a knowing air. 

“ Why do you write so illegibly?” he said at last; “ our 
sharp eyes cannot decipher this. Where is my secretary 
of state?” 

A young man in a corporal’s uniform hastened to obey 
the summons. 

“ Read aloud,” said the impostor, handing him the 
paper. 

I felt very curious to know what my servant had taken 
into his head to write to Poogatchoff. The secretary of 
state commenced to read as follows: 

“ Two dressing-gowns, one cotton and one silk one — 
six rubles.” 

“ What does that mean?” said Poogatchoff, frowning. 

“Allow him to read on,” said Savielitch quietly. 

The secretary continued: 

“A fine green cloth uniform — seven rubles. 

“White trousers — five rubles. 

“ A dozen linen shirts — ten rubles. 


62 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


A strong box with tea-service ” 

"^What’s all that nonsense about?” interrupted Poo- 
gatchoff. '' What have I got to do with trousers, cuffs, 
and boxes?” 

Savielitch cleared his throat, and began to explain. 

You see, this is an inventory of my master’s property 
stolen by these villains.” 

What villains?” said Poogatchoff, menacingly. 

Beg pardon, ’twas a slip of the tongue,” said Savie- 
litch. ‘‘They are no villains, but your men, who rum- 
maged everywhere, and took everything away. Don’t be 
angry; a horse has four legs, yet it stumbles sometimes. 
Det him finish.” 

“ Eead oh,” said Poogatchoff. 

“A wadded silk counterpane — fifty rubles. 

“ A fur cloak — forty rubles. 

“A hareskin coat, given to your Majesty at the inn — 
forty rubles.” 

“How now!” shouted Poogatchoff, his eyes darting 
fire. 

I confess I grew frightened for my poor servant. He 
was on the point of explaining further when Poogatchoff 
interrupted him: 

“How dare you trouble me with such rubbish?” he 
screamed, snatching the paper and throwing it into Savie- 
litch’s face. “Stupid old fool! Bobbed indeedi What 
a misfortune! Old fool that you are, you ought to pray 
for me every day of your life, that I did not hang you and 
your master with those rebels. A hareskin! Do you 
know I will have you flogged alive to make skins of?” 

“As you please,” answered Savielitch; “I am only a 
servant, and I am responsible for my master’s things.” 

Poogatchoff was evidently in a generous mood. He 
turned his horse’s head, and rode away without saying 
another word. The gang left the fortress in an orderly 
manner; the people went as escort some distance beyond 
the gates. I remained alone with Shvabrin in the square. 
My servant stood holding the inventory in his hands, and 
looking at it with an expression of deep commiseration, 
^^oticing that I was on such good terms with Poogatchoff, 
he thought he would do well to turn the same to goo*d ac- 
count; but his wise intention proved a failure. I attempt- 


THE captain’s daughter. 


63 


ed to scold him for his mistaken zeal, but could not keep 
from laughing. 

‘"Laugh away, sir,” answered Savielitch, “laugh away. 
When we are obliged to buy everything anew for pur 
housekeeping, I wonder if you will go on laughing then?” 

I hastened to the priest’s house to see Mary. The 
priest’s wife met me with the sad news that Mary had 
been seized with a burning fever during the night. She 
was quite unconscious and delirious. I was led to her 
room. The change in her face struck me at once. The 
poor sick girl did not recognize me. I stood by her bed- 
side for some time, hearing neither the priest nor his wife, 
who tried, I believe, to console me. Gloomy thoughts 
agitated, my soul; the fate of this poor unprotected 
orphan left to the mercy of wicked rebels, and my utter 
powerlessness to assist her, filled me with dread. The 
thought of Shvabrin filled me with horror. Vested with 
power by the impostor, as commandant of the fortress 
where the poor girl remained, the innocent object of his 
hatred, he might be capable of anything. What was I to 
do? How could I help her? how rescue her from the vil- 
lain’s hands? One means only was left me; I decided to 
start immediately for Orenburg, intending to hasten the 
deliverance of the BielPgorski fortress, and, if possible, to 
take an active part in it. I took leave of the priest’s 
wife, warmly recommending to her. care the dear girl I 
already looked on as my wife. I took her poor hand in 
mine, kissing andlbathingitlwith my.tears. “ Farewell, Mr. 
Grinioff,” said the priest’s wife as she accompanied me to 
the door; “ let us hope we may meet again when better 
times’come. Don’t forget us, and write as often as you 
can. Poor Mary has no one but you to look to now.” 

As I passed through the square I stopped for a moment 
before the gallows, and took off my hat. I then left the 
fortress on my way to Orenburg, accompanied by Savie- 
litch, who would not desert me. 

I was busy with my own thoughts when suddenly I 
heard the sound of horses’ hoofs. I looked round, and 
saw a Cossack galloping toward me, leading a second 
horse, and making signs to me from afar. I stopped, and 
soon recognized our traitor under-ofiicer. As he rode up 
to me he leapt from his horse and threw me the reins of 
the one he was leading. 


G4 


THE CAPTAI>"’S DAUGHTER. 


‘‘Here, your honor, our gracious sovereign sends you 
this horse for a present, and also this fur cloak from his 
own shoulders (this was tied to the saddle) ; and besides 
these he gave me a silver ruble for you; but I have lost 
it bn the way — pray forgive me !*’ 

Savielitch gave him a sidelong glance and muttered: 

“ Lost it on the way did you? What’s that rattling in 
your bosom, you rogue?” 

“What is rattling in my bosom?” replied the under- 
officer, in noway abashed, “Lord bless you, old man, 
it’s the bridle rattled and not money!” 

“ Very well,” said I, interrupting their dispute, “ thank 
him who sent you to me. Try and find on your way back 
the money you lost, and keep it for your pains.” 

“Many thanks, your honor,” he said as he turned his 
horse’s head; “I will always pray to God for you.” 

With these words he galloped off, pressing his hand to 
his breast, and in a moment was out of sight. 

I put on the sheepskin coat and mounted my horse, 
making Savielitch sit behind me. “ You see, sir,” said 
the old man, “ I did not bow to the scoundrel in vain; he 
was evidently ashamed of himself. To be sure, a long- 
legged Bashkir brute and a sheepskin coat are not worth 
one-half of what the rascal stole from us, or what you 
yourself have given him; but still they may be of some 
use. ’Tis well to snatch even a handful of hair off a mad 
dog’s back.” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE SIEGE OF ORENBURG. 

As we approached Orenburg we perceived a crowd of 
convicts, with shorn heads and faces disfigured by the exe- 
cutioner’s tongs. They were busily at work on the forti- 
fications, superintended by garrison soldiers. Some of 
them were wheeling earth to fill a ditch, others were dig- 
ing with spades; on the ramparts masons were carrying 
bricks for repairing the town wall. AVe were stopped by 
the sentinels at the gates; they asked to see our passports. 
As soon as the sergeant heard I came from the Bielogorski 
fortress, he conducted me at once to the governor’s house. 
I found him in the garden; he was examining some apple- 


THE captain’s daughter. 


65 


trees, and with the help of an old gardener was carefully 
wrapping them round with straw. His face was expressive 
of calmness, health, and good-nature. "He was glad to see 
me, and began to question me about the dreadful events I 
had witnessed. I related everything. The old man list- 
oned attentively, cutting off the withered branches the 
while. 

Poor MironoffP said he after I had finished my sad 
tale, ‘‘ it is a great pity; he was a good officer, and 
Madame Mironoff was a kind lady and so clever at salting 
mushrooms! And what has become of Mary, the captain’s 
daughter? Oh! oh! oh!” remarked the general, ‘Hhis is 
bad, very bad indeed; it is quite impossible to trust the 
willain. What will become of the poor girl?” 

I replied that the Bielogorski fortress was not far dis- 
tant, and that his excellency would probably send out a 
detachment and rescue the inhabitants without delay. 
The general shook his head with an air of indecision. 

We shall see, we shall see,” said he; '‘we shall have 
plenty of time to talk about this. Pray come and drink 
tea with me; to-night I hold a counsel of war at my house, 
you can then give me some concise information concern- 
ing this rascal Poogatchoff and his men. In the mean- 
time go and rest yourself.” 

I went to the lodging assigned me, where Savielitch 
was busily arranging everything, and I awaited with im- 
patience the appointed hour. The reader may easily 
imagine that I did not fail to be present at the council 
which was to influence my future destiny. When the 
time came I hastened to the general’s house. I found one 
of the town functionaries already there, a director of 
Customs, a fat, red-faced old man, in along, shiny bro- 
caded coat. He questioned me minutely as to Captain 
Mironoff's death, whom he called his friend, often inter- 
rupting me by additional inquiries and remarks, which, if 
they did not prove him to be very learned in military 
tactics, at least showed his sagacity, shrewdness, and 
natural wit. 

Meanwhile the other guests arrived. When every one 
was seated and had been served with tea, the general de- 
scribed in very plain and minute terms the state of affairs. 
"And now% gentlemen,” continued he, "we must decide 
what plan of action to adopt with regard to these rebels, 
8 


66 THE oaptaik’s daughter. 

whetlier offensive or defensive. Each of these courses 
has its advantages and disadvantages. The offensive holds 
out greater hopes of more speedily annihilating theenemy^ 
the defensive is more certain and less dangerous; therefore 
let us vote in the usual way, beginning with the lowest in 
rank. Lieutenant,’’ continued he, addressing me, please 
give us your opinion.” 

I rose, and after giving a brief description of Poogat- 
choff and his army, affirmed that the impostor could not 
possibly hold out against regular forces. 

My opinion was received with evident displeasure by all 
the dignitaries present. They considered it to be the 
mere rashness and audacity of extreme youth. A murmur 
ran through the room, and I distinctly heard the word 
‘‘ Greenhorn ” pronounced in a half-whisper. The gen- 
eral turned to me with a smile: ‘‘Lieutenant, the first 
vote in a council of war is generally given in favor of the 
offensive course. This is in accordance with custom. 
Now, let us continue with our voting. What is your 
opinion, collegiate councilor?” 

The old gentleman in the glazed brocaded coat drank 
off his tea, strongly flavored with rum, and replied: 

“ I think, your excellency, that we should adopt neither 
the offensive nor the defensive.” 

“ How so, collegiate councilor?” exclaimed the aston- 
ished general. “ Military tactics offer no other course — 
either the defensive or the offensive.” 

“Have recourse to bribery, your excellency.” 

“Ah, ah! your idea is capital, and a very rational one. 
Bribery is approved of by military tactics. Most assured- 
ly we will take advantage of your suggestion. We will 
offer a reward for the rascal’s head — say seventy or per- 
haps one hundred rubles — out of our own privy purse.” 

“ And you may call me an old Kirghese sheep, and n^t 
a collegiate councilor, if the rogues do not deliver up 
their leader, bound hand and foot, into our power.” 

“We must talk it over,” answered the general. “In 
any case it is still necessary to have recourse to military 
steps. Gentlemen, give your vote, each in his turn.” 

Everybody’s opinion proved contrary to mine; all spoke 
of the precarious situation of the troops, of the uncertainty 
of success, of prudence, and so k)rth. The unanimous 
opinion was that it would be more advisable to retuaiu 


THE captain’s daughter. 


6 ? 


'within shelter of the cannon, behind a strong stone 
wall, than to attempt to fight in tho open plain. At 
length, after listening to everybody’s opinion, the general 
shook the ashes from his pipe, And made the following 
remark: 

‘‘Gentlemen, I must confess to you that for my part I 
coincide exactly with the lieutenant, whose plan is found- 
ed on recognized rules of military tactics, which nearly 
always prefer the offensive to the defensive.” 

Here he stopped and began to fill his pipe. My vanity 
triumphed; I looked proudly round at the dignitaries, 
who whispered to each other with an air of uneasiness and 
discontent. 

“But, my dear sirs,” continued he, puffing out a dense 
cloud of smoke and heaving a deep sigh, “I dare not take 
upon myself so heavy a responsibility when there is a 
question of the safety of the provinces confided to my care 

liiy gracious sovereign the Empress. Therefore I give 
way to the plurality of votes, which has decided that the 
most reasonable and safe way is to await the assault within 
the walls, and repulse the enemy’s attacks by artillery, or, 
if it should prove advisable, by sorties.” 

The dignitaries in their turn now threw me a sarcastic 
glance. 

The council ended. I could not help deploring the 
worthy general’s weakness; who, acting against his own 
convictions, had decided to adopt the advice of incom- 
petent and inexperienced men. 

A few days after this remarkable council we received 
information that Poogatchoff, true to his threat, was 
approaching Orenburg. From the top of the ramparts I 
could discern tiie rebel army, it seemed to me that it 
had multiplied tenfold since the assault on the Bielogorski 
fortress, of which I had been a witness. They were now 
in possession of artillery, captured by Poogatchoff at the 
various small fortresses he had already subdued. Re- 
membering the decision of the council, I foresaw a long 
imprisonment within the walls of Orenburg and felt ready 
• to cry with vexation. 

I will not relate the assault of Orenburg, as that be- 
longs to history and not to private memoirs. I will only 
state briefly that the assault, owing to the carelessness of 
those in command, was the ruin of the inhabitants, who 


68 


THE CAPTAIN’^S DAUGHTER. 


suffered, in consequence, famine and all kinds of misery- 
It may easily be imagined that life in Orenburg was in- 
sufferable. Everybody dejectedly awaited his fate, and 
complained of the higli price of provisions, which was 
indeed excessive. The people grew accustomed to the 
cannon balls, which continually fell into their yards; even 
the expected assault by Poogatchoff ceased to excite gen-' 
eral curiosity. 1 was very miserable. 

Time wore on, and I received no letters from the Biid- 
ogorski fortress. All the roads were cut off. This sepa-' 
ration from Mary grew insupportable to me. My ignor- 
ance of her fate tormented me. The only distraction I 
had was riding. Thanks to Poogatchoff, I had a good 
horse, with whom I divided my scanty fare and on whom 
I rode every day out of town, to exchange shots with 
Poogatchoff^s horsemen. In these skirmishes the villains 
generally had the best of it, being well fed, well mounted, 
and half-drunk. The hungry Cossacks of the town were 
no match for them. Our half-starved infantry would 
sometimes go into the held, but the deep snow prevented 
their success. The artillery thundered in vain from the 
top of the ramparts, or sank and came to a standstill in 
the field, owing to the pitiful condition .of the poor 
horses. This was the result of our military tactics; and 
this is what the Orenburg dignitaries called prudence and 
reason ! 

One day, when we had somehow contrived to disperse a 
dense body of rebels, I overtook a Cossack who had slunk 
away from his comrades. I was about to strike him with 
my Turkish saber, when he suddenly took off his cap, ex- 
claiming: 

How do you do, lieutenant? How fares it with you?” 

I looked up, and recognized in him the traitor under- 
ofificer of the Bielogorski fortress. I was delighted to see 
him. 

How do you do, Maximitch?” said I. ‘‘Is it long 
since you left Bielogorski?” 

“ Just lately, my good sir. ’Twas but yesterday I came 
from there. I have a letter for you.” 

“ Then where is it?” I exclaimed, my face glowing like 
fire. 

“Here it is,” said Maximitch, putting his hand to his 


THE captain’s daughter. ' 69 

breast ‘‘ I promised Palashka you should have it some- 
how or other.” 

Upon this he presented me with a folded paper, and 
then immediately galloped off. I opened it, trembling 
with emotion, and read the following lines: 

“ 1l was God’s will to deprive me suddenly of both father and 
mother. I have neither protectors nor friends upon earth. I appeal 
to you, knowing that you alwa 5 ^s wished me well, and are always 
ready to help every one. I pray God this letter may somehow reach 
you. Maximitch has promised to take it. He told Palashka that 
he often sees you in the skirmishes, and that you don’t take the 
slightest care of yourself, and do not remember those who pray for 
you with many tears. I was ill for a long time, and when I recov- 
ered, Mr. Shvabrin, who is commandant here in my dead father’s 
stead, compelled the priest to give me over to him, threatening him 
with Poogatchoff. I am living in our old house, and am well 
guarded. Mr. IShvabrin Avants to force me to marry him. He says 
he saved ray life, because he did not contradict the falsehood the 
priest’s wife told when she said I was her niece; but death would 
be far preferable to me than to become the wife of such a man as 
Shvabrin. He treats me most cruelly, and threatens that if I do 
not consent he will send me to the impostor’s camp, where he hopes 
I shall meet with the same fate as Elizabeth Harlofif. I begged Shva- 
brin to give me time to consider, and he has promised to wait three 
days longer. If I don’t marry him then, no mercy is to be shown 
me. Oh, my good Mr. Grinioff! you are my only protector: pity 
me ! Ask the general to send us help, and come yourself if you 
can. I remain, 5 ^our poor orphan girl, Mary Mironoff.” 

When I read this letter I was nearly distracted. I flew 
back to town, mercilessly spurring my horse. On my 
way I thought first of one plan and then of another for 
rescuing the poor girl, but to no purpose. I galloped into 
the town and went straight to the general, rushing head- 
long into his presence. He was walking up and down the 
room, smoking his meerschaum pipe. On seeing me he 
stopped short, struck, I suppose, by my agitation, and 
inquired with solicitude the cause of my hasty entrance. 

Your excellency,” said I, ‘‘I appeal to you as I would 
to my own father; for God’s sake do not refuse my re- 
quest — the happiness of my whole life depends on it.” 

‘‘What can I do for you, my dear boy?” asked the 
astonished old man. “ Speak!” 

“ Let me take a detachment of soldiers and fifty Cos- 
sacks, and save the Bielogorski fortress!” 

The general looked hard at me, thinking, I suppose, I 
had gone mad, in which surmise he was not far wrong. 


70 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


“ What! save the Bielogorski fortress?” 

^‘Yes! I will answer for success,” I said, warmlj. 
“ Only let me go!” 

“ No, my boy,” said he, shaking his head; '‘at suck 
a distance it would be easy for the enemy to cut otf com- 
munication with the chief strategic point, and winacom- 
plete victory over you. This communication once cut 
off ” 

I grew alarmed, seeing him carried away by his military 
combinations, and hastily interrupted him — 

Captain Mironofif’s daughter has sent me a letter 
praying for help. Shvabrin is trying to force her to 
marry him!” 

“Is it possible? This Shvabrin is a great scoundrel, 
and if lie falls into my hands I will have him tried within 
twenty-four hours, and he shall be shot on the ramparts. 
But meanwhile we must be patient.” 

“Be patient!” I exclaimed, quite beside myself, “and 
in tlie meantime he will marry Mary.” 

“ Well,” replied the general, “ no great harm will come 
of that. It is safer for her to be Shvabrin’s wife just 
now; he v/ill protect her, and when we have shot him, 
with God’s help she will get another husband. Pretty 
widows never remain single; at least, I mean to say that a 
widow can more easily get a husband than a young girl 
can.” 

“ I would sooner die,” I screamed in a fury, “ than give 
her up to Shvabrin!” 

“Bah! bah! bah!” said the old man. “I see it all 

now; you are in love with Mary, it seems; that is a dif- 

ferent thing altogetljer. Poor boy! But it is quite im- 
possible to give you a detachment of soldiers; the expedi- 
tion would be too rash. I cannot take upon myself such 
a responsibility.” 

I bowed my head: my soul filled with despair. Sud- 
denly an idea struck me, and what that was the reader 

will see in the next chapter, as old-fashioned novelists 
would say. 


THE CAPTAIl^^S DAUGHTER. 


71 


CHAPTER XL 

THE REBEL VILLAGE. 

I LEFT tlie general, and hurried to my quarters. Savie- 
litch met me, as usual, vvitli a reproacli." “ What pleasure 
can you find, sir, in associating with drunken rogues.^^ Is 
it a fitting occupation for a gentleman? One day is not 
always as lucky as another, and some day you may lose 
your life. Were you fighting with Swedes or Turks that 
would he a different matter; but it is almost a disgrace to 
gay with whom you do fight.” 

I interrupted him: “ How much money have I in all?” 

“Plenty,” answered he, looking pleased. “Though 
the rascals did ransack and thieve I managed to hide 
some.” 

With this he pulled out of his pocket a well-filled 
knitted purse. 

“Give me half, and. you may keep the rest yourself. I 
am going to the Bielogorski fortress.” 

“ Master Peter,” said the kind old man in a trembling 
voice, “ how can you take such a journey when no road is 
safe from the rebels? For God’s sake, have pity on your 
parents, if not on yourself. Why do you wish to go? 
Wait awhile; the Empress will send her army to demolish 
these rebels, and then you may go all over the world if 
you like.” 

But my decision was firmly taken. 

“It is too late to argue,” said I to the old man; “I 
must go. Do not grieve, Savielitch; with God’s help we 
may meet again. Do not be too scrupulous or economical 
— the money is yours; buy all you want and pay three- 
fold if necessary. If I do not return in tliree days ” 

“ Wliat are you talking about, sir?” interrupted Savie- 
litch; “ as if I should dream of letting you go alone! If you 
are determined to go, I will not abandon you, but will fol- 
low you on foot, if necessary. As if I could remain behind 
these stone walls without you. Am I mad? Do as you 
please, Master Peter, but I won’t be left behind.” 

I knew it was useless to argue with Savielitch, so I 


72 


THE captain's DAUGHTER. 


allowed him to get ready for the journey. In half-an-hour 
I mounted my good steed. Savielitch rode an old lame 
hack which one of the towns-folk had given him, not being 
able to keep it any longer, TVe rode through the town 
gates and left Orenburg. 

It was growing dusk; my way lay through the village 
of Berda, Poogatchoff’s headquarters. The road was lost 
in the deep snow, but traces of horses’ hoofs could bo seen 
across the steppes, and these were daily renewed. I rode 
at a quick trot; Savielitch could not keep up with me, 
and shouted repeatedly from a distance, For God’s sake, 
not so fast, sir; not so fast. My cursed jade can’t follow 
that long-legged devil of yours. What’s' the hurry? If 
we w'ere going to a feast it would be different, but there’s 
plenty of time yet to put our necks into a halter. Master 
Peter! — my dear master! — Master Peter! Lord liave 
mercy! the master’s child is sure to get killed!” 

In a short time Berda’s lights began to glimmer. We 
approached the ravines forming a natural fortification for 
the village. Savielitch kept near me, and his lamentations 
never ceased. I hoped to pass the village without incur- 
ring danger, but suddenly I perceived through the twilight, 
just in front of me, five rebels armed with cudgels. They 
were the vanguard of Poogatchoff’s army. Tliey shouted 
to us. Notwithstanding the password, I attempted to ride 
by in silence, but they gathered round me in an instant, 
and one of them seized my horse’s bridle. I drew my 
sword, struck one man on the head; his cap saved him, 
but he staggered and let go the bridle. The rest were 
scared and retreated. I took advantage of this, spurred 
on my horse, and galloped off. The darkness of the night 
might have saved me from further danger, when, on turn- 
ing round, I perceived that Savielitch was no longer with 
me. What was to be done? I waited a few moments, 
and feeling assured he had been stopped by the rebels, 
went back to his rescue. 

On nearing the ravine I heard shouts and screams in the 
distance, and recognized the voice of Savielitch. I 
quickened my pace, and soon found myself with the rebels 
again. They rushed at me, and dragged me from my 
horse. One of them, apparently their leader, declared 
that he would at once take me to the Emperor, who would 
decide whether I was to be hanged that night or next 


THE captain’s dacghter. 73 

morning. I made no resistance, Savielitch followed my 
example, and the sentry led us off in triumph. 

We passed the ravine and entered the village. All the 
huts were lit up; shouts and noise resounded. We met a 
number of people, but no one noticed us through the 
darkness, and did not recognize in me an Orenburg officer. 
AVe were conducted to a hut that stood at the corner of 
the cross-roads. Several wine- casks and two cannons were 
placed near the gates. 

‘‘ This is the palace,” said one of the Cossacks. I 
will go and announce your arrival.” 

He entered the hut. I glanced at Savielitch; the old 
man was crossing himseli, and praying in a low voice. I 
had some time to wait; at last the Cossack returned, say- 
ing, “ His Majesty had ordered him to show the officer 
in.” I entered the hut, or the ^‘Balace” as the rebels 
called it; it was lit by two tallow candles, whilst the walls 
were covered by tinsel paper. As to the rest, the benches, 
tables, the water-jug hanging from a string, the towel on 
a nail, the oven-fork in a corner, and the spacious hearth 
filled with pots and pans— all this was like any other 
peasant’s hut. Poogatchoff sat beneath the saint’s image. 
He was dressed in a red kaftan and a high cap, with his 
arms akimbo, assuming an air of importance. He was 
surrounded by his rebel chiefs. It was evident that the 
news of an officer’s arrival from Orenburg had excited 
great curiosity amongst the rebels, and they had prepared 
to receive me with looks of triumph. Poogatchoff knew 
me at a glance. His assumed gravity vanished in,a mo- 
ment. 

‘‘ Ah, your honor!” said he with alacrity. How do 
you do? What has brought you here?” 

I replied that I was traveling on business of my own, 
and that his men stopped me. 

And what kind of business is it?” asked he. 

I was at a loss what answer to give. Poogatchoff, believ- 
ing that I did not care to offer an explanation before 
witnesses, turned to his comrades and ordered them to 
leave the room. They all obeyed except two who did nob 
stir. 

Speak freely before these,” said Poogatchoff; I keep 
nothing from them.” 


74 


THE captain's DAUGHTER. 


I gave aside-glance at the impostor’s confidants. One 
of them, a decrepit, puny old man, with a gray beard, 
had nothing remarkable about him except a blue ribbon, 
which he wore across his shoulder over a gray coat. But 
I shall never forget his companion. He was tall, stout, 
and squarely-built, and seemed about forty-live. A thick 
beard, sparkling gray eyes, a nose without any nostrils, 
and reddish spots on his forehead and cheeks, imparted to 
his pock-marked face an indescribable look. He wore a 
red shirt, a Bashkir dressing-gown, and Cossack trousers. 
The first man, as I afterward discovered, was a deserter, 
Bieloborsdoff; the second, Sokoloff, a convicted criminal, 
wlio had escaped from the mine^ in Siberia. Notwith- 
standing the feeling which agitated me, these villains, 
amongst whom I unexpectedly found myself, worked 
strongly on my imagination. Poogatchoff recalled me to 
myself. 

Speak: what brought yon from Orenburg?” 

A strange thought fiashed through my brain; it seemed 
to me that Providence, in delivering me for a second time 
into Poogatchofi’s power, gave me the opportunity of car- 
rying out my intentions. I resolved to take advantage of 
this, and without giving myself time to refiect what my 
experiment might lead to, 1 said — 

I am on my way to the Bielogorski fortress to rescue 
an orphan girl who is being persecuted there.” 

Poogatchoff’s eyes shot fire. 

Which of my men dares to insult an orphan?” he ex- 
claimed, wrathfully. “Though he have seven stars ou 
his brow, he should not escape vengeance. Tell me, who 
is the offender?” 

“ Shvabrin is the man,” I replied. “ He is keeping 
prisoner a young girl you saw at the priest’s house, and 
wants her to marry him against her will.” 

“I’ll give him a lesson!” said Poogatchoff, meaningly. 
“I’ll teach him to persecute; I’ll have him hanged!” 

“Allow me to put in a word,” said Sokoloff in a hoarse 
voice. “You were in too great a hurry to make 
Shvabrin commandant of the fortress, as you are now too 
liasty in your threat to hang him. You have already of- 
fended the Cossacks by naming as their chief an aristo- 
crat; don’t now go and frighten the aristocrats by hang- 
ing one of them at the first word you hear.” 


THE CAPTAIH'S DAUGHTER. 


75 


They are not wortliy of pity or favor,” said the old 
man with the bine ribbon; “there’s no harm in hanging 
Shvabrin. It would be as well to question Mr. Officer 
here as to what brought him to Berda. If he does not 
acknowledge you as his sovereign, he has no business ta 
look to you for justice; and if lie does acknowledge you, 
why did lie stay in Orenburg all this time with your ene- 
mies? Don’t you think you had better put him in irons 
and have him tortured? It strikes me his honor has been 
sent as spy by the Orenburg commandant.” 

Tlie ohl man’s logic seemed to me rather convincing; a 
shudder ran through me when I thought into what liands 
I had fallen. Poogatchoff noticed my agitation. 

“ Yes, your honor,” said he, winking at me, “ methinks 
my field -marshal is right. What have you to say for 
yourself?” 

His sarcastic tone gave me fresh courage. I said calm- 
ly that I. was in his power, that he had a right to do with 
me what he thought proper. 

“ All right,” said Poogatchoff. “And now tell me all 
about the state of your town.” 

“ Thank God,” said I, “ all goes well there.” 

“ All goes well,” repeated Poogatclioff, “and yet the 
l^eople are all dying of hunger.” 

Tht? impostor was speaking the truth; but, bound by 
my oatn, I asserted that the rumor was false — that Oren- 
burg w}{S plentifully supplied with provisions. 

“ You see,” said the old man with the blue ribbon, he 
is lying to your very face. All the deserters from Oren- 
burg report alike. Hunger and death are raging there; 
they feed on carrion, and think it a dish not to be de- 
spised; and yet his honor here asserts they have plenty to 
live on. If you intend to hang* Shvabrin, hang this 
youngster on the same cross-beam, to excite nobody’s 
envy.” 

The cursed old man’s words seemed to shake Poogat- 
choff’s resolution; fortunately, however, the two old 
wretches began quarreling amongst themselves. Sokoloff 
flatly contradicted the field-marshal. 

“ Well, well,” said he, “ you think of nothing but hang- 
ing and killing. What sort of hero are you? To look at 
you, it’s a wonder your body can contain your soul. You 
have one foot in the grave, and you think of nothing but 


76 THE captain’s daughter. 

of killing others! Have yon not blood enough on your 
head already?” 

“ Now, what sort of a saint are you?” replied the field- 
marshal; ‘^whence comes your soft-heartedness all of a 
sudden?” 

No doubt,” answered Sokoloff, that I am a sinner 
too, and this hand and arm ” (here he clinched his bony 
fist, and turning up his sleeve, uncovered his hairy arm) 

are guilty of spilling Christian blood. I killed enemies, 
not guests. I killed on broad highways, in black forests; 
not at home, on my own hearth.” 

The little old man turned away muttering between his 
teeth, ^‘Old ragged nose ” 

What are you muttering there, you old devil?” thun- 
dered Sokoloff. Eagged nose! Kepeat it, if you dare. 
Wait a bit, your turn will come; you will have a taste of 
the executioner’s tongs! Take care, meanwhile, that I 
don’t tear your beard out for you?” 

‘^My lords! generals!” exclaimed Poogatchoff with im- 
portance, leave off quarreling, do! It would be no great 
misfortune if all the Orenburg dogs were to swing on the 
same cross-beam; but a sorry one it would be if my chiefs 
were to tear one another in pieces. Make friends, will 
you ?” 

They both remained silent, looking gloomily at one an- 
other. I saw that it would be wise to change thereon ver- 
sation, which might end rather unpleasantly for me; so, 
turning to Poogatchoff, I said gayly: Ah! J had almost 
forgotten to thank you for the horse and sheepskin coat 
you sent me. But for you I should never have reached 
Orenburg, and might have been frozen to death on the 
way.” My ruse succeeded. Poogatchoff grew merry. 

I owed you an old debt,” said he, winking and shutting 
his eyes; ‘‘but tell me, what is that young girl to you, 
whom Shvabrin is persecuting? Do you take any par- 
ticular interest in her — eh?” 

“ She is my betrothed,” I answered, seeing the agree- 
able change in his manner, and finding no reason for 
withholding the truth. 

“ Your betrothed! Why didn’t you say so before? In 
that case we will have you married, and feast at your 
wedding.” 

Then turning to his companions, he added: 


THE captain's DAUGHTE?.. 7? 

^'Listen to me, field-marshal. His honor and I are 
very old friends: let ns have supper now. Morning brings 
more wisdom than evening: to-morrow we will discuss 
w'hat had better be done with him.’’ 

I would gladly have refused the proffered honor, but 
there was no help for it. Two young Cossack girls laid 
the cloth, on which they placed bread, some fish-soup, 
and several flagons of wine and beer. And thus I once 
more found myself at the same board with Poogatchoff 
and his horrible companions. This orgy, at which I was 
an unwilling guest, lasted far into the night. At length 
the fumes of the wine began to tell on the revelers. Poo- 
gatchoff dozed in his chair; his comrades rose and made 
signs for me to leave him. Following their instructions 
the sentry led me to a kind of office, where I found 
Savielitch, and we were locked in together. My old servant 
was so amazed at everything that was taking place that he 
did not even ask me a single question. He lay down in 
the dark, and kept sighing and groaning. At length this 
changed into a snore, and I gave myself up to meditation, 
which kept me awake through the night. Next morning 
Poogatchoff sent for me. I went into his presence. At 
the gates stood a heebeetha, with three horses harnassed 
abreast; a crowd had collected round it. I met Poogat- 
choff in the passage. He was attired for a journey, in a fur 
cloak and Kirghese cap. His two companions of the 
previous night attended him, assuming an air of servility 
which was in direct contradiction to what I had witnessed 
the previous evening. Poogatchoff welcomed me gayly, 
and invited me to sit near him in the iceebeetlca. When 
we were seated Poogatchoff said, ‘^To the Bielogorski 
fortress!” The order was given to a broad-shouldered 
Tartar, who, standing erect, drove the troiha,* My heart 
beat fast; the horses dashed on, the bells tinkled, the 
heebeetica flew over the snow. 

‘^Stop! stop!” resounded a too well-known voice, and 
I saw Savielitch running after us. Poogatchoff ordered 
the post-boy to stop. 

“ My dear Master Peter,” shouted my servant, '‘don’t 
abandon me in my old age, and leave me amid these 
rase ” 


*A troika is a Riissi.'in team of three horses. 


78 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


‘‘All, old graybeard!” said Poogatclioff, “here you are 
again! So fate has thrown us once more together. Get 
up next the coachman.” 

“ 'IMiunk yon, yoiir majesty; God grant you may live s 
linndred years for helping an old man like me. I will 
alwavs pray for you, and as to the hareskin coat I’ll never 
mention it again.” 

This unfortunate hareskin might at last seriously enrage 
Poogatclioff. Fortunately, however, he did not hear, or 
else disdained to notice the ill-timed remark. We gal- 
loped on, the people bowing low as we passed. Poogat- 
choff nodded right and left. In a few moments we were 
out of the village, and speeding along the smooth road. 

One may easily imagine wbat I felt at this moment. In 
a few hours more I should see her whom I had considered 
lost to me for ever. I pictured our meeting. I thought, 
too, of the man who was master of my destiny, and who, 
by a strange combination of events, was mysteriously con- 
nected with me. I recalled the cruelty, the bloodthirsti- 
ness of him who now offered to deliver my beloved. 

Poogatclioff did not know she was the daughter of Cap- 
t.'iin Mironoff. He might learn the truth; Sclivabrin, ex- 
asperated, might divulge everything. What would be- 
come of Mary in that case? A shudder ran through me, 
and my hair stood on end. Suddenly my companion cut 
short my meditations, as, turning to me, he said — 

“ Why are you buried in thought, your honor?” 

“ How can I help it?” I replied. “ I, a nobleman and 
an officer, who yesterday fought against you, am to-day 
driving in the same heeleetJca with you, and my whole 
life’s happiness depends on you.” 

“Well,” said Poogatclioff, “ do you fear the result?” 

I replied, that, having received mercy at his hands 
on a previous occasion, I hoped he would help me again. 

“And you are right, by heaven I” said the impostor. 
“ You saw how menacingly my men looked, and they per- 
sisted even this morning in declaring you were a spy and 
ought to be hanged; but I would not heed them,” said he, 
lowering his voice in order that Savielitch and the Tartar 
should not hear. “ You see, I have a good memory; your 
hareskin coat and glass of wine have not been forgotten. 
I am not such a bloodsucker as your friends make me out 
to be.” 


THE captain’s daughter. 79 

I recalled the assault of the Bielogorski fortress, but 
did not think fit to contradict him, so I said nothing. 

What do they say of me in Orenburg?” asked Poogat- 
choff. 

They say it will be very difficult to get the better of 
you, and I must admit you deserve your renown.” 

The impostor’s face showed that his ambition was satis- 
fied. 

Yes,” he said gayly, I am a clever general. Did you 
hear of the battle near Uzeeva? Forty generals were 
killed, four detachments were taken prisoners. Do you 
think the King of Prussia would fight against me?” 

His audacity and swagger amused me. 

‘‘ What is your own opinion?” I asked him. Do you 
believe you could beat Frederick?” 

‘‘Frederick! and why not? I beat your generals who 
have beaten him many a time. Up to now I have been 
lucky in war. Wait a bit, you’ll see stranger things yet 
when I enter Moscow.” 

“And do you think you will ever enter Moscow?” 

The impostor grew thoughtful, then said in a low voice, 
“ God only knows; my path is narrow; I have too little 
freedom. My men want to have their own way; they are 
a roguish lot; I must be on my guard. At the first failure 
they will save their own necks by giving up my head.” 

“ You see,” I said to him, “I think it would be better 
for you to leave them in time and crave the mercy of the 
Empress.” 

Poogatchoff smiled bitterly, 

“No,” said he, “it is too late for me to repent; no 
mercy will be shown me; as I have begun, so will I con- 
tinue. Who knows? perhaps I may succeed. Otrepieff 
did reign in Moscow, after all.” 

“ And do you know his fate? He was thrown out of a 
window and murdered, then burnt, and a cannon was af- 
terward loaded with his ashes, and discharged.” 

“ Listen,” said he, as if inspired. “I will tell you a 
tale that was told me by an old Kalmuc woman when I 
was a child. An eagle once said to a raven, ‘Tell me, 
raven, why do you live three hundred years, whilst I live 
only thirty- three?’ ‘Because,’ replied the raven, ‘you 
drink fresh blood, whilst I feed on carrion.’ The eagle 
thought to himself, ‘Well, supposing we both try to eat 


80 


THE captain’s DAUGHTEK. 


the same food.’ ‘All right,’ said the raven. Away flew 
eagle and raven together. They saw a dead horse, flew 
down and lighted on it. The raven began to peck and 
praise his meal; the eagle pecked once, pecked twice,- 
clapped his wing and said, ‘ No, brotlier raven, ’tis far 
preferable to drink once of fresh blood than to live three 
hundred years on carrion, be the result what it may.’ ” 

“ It is very ingenious,” I answered, “ but to my mind 
living by murder and theft is equivalent to feeding on 
carrion.” 

Poogatchoff looked at me in surprise, but said nothing.. 

We both became silent, buried in thought. 

The Tartar commenced singing a melancholy song. 
Savielitch dozed as he sat in the coachman’s box. The 
Tceebeetlca flew over the smooth road. All of a sudden 
small village met my view, built on the shores of the 
Yaicka, with a wooden inclosure and belfry tower; in 
another quarter of an hour we drove into the Bieiogorski 
fortress. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE OEPHAN GIRL. 

The keebeetha stopped in front of the commandant’s, 
house. The people recognizing the sound of Poogatchofl’s 
sledge-bells, ran after us in crowds. Shvabrin received 
the impostor at the door. He wore tlie Cossack dress, and 
iiad let his beard grow. The traitor helped Poogatchoff 
to alight, expressing his joy and zeal in the most abject 
manner. On seeing me he grew confused, but soon re- 
gained his self-possession, and holding out his hand, said: 

“ So you too are one of us? It is high time you should 
be.” 

I turned from him without speaking. My heart ached 
when I found myself in the well-known rooms, where the 
credentials of the late commandant still hung on the wall 
as a memorial of past times. Poogatchoff seated himself 
on the sofa on which poor Captain Mironoff used to doze, 
sent to sleep by his wife’s grumbling. Shvabrin brought 
him some brandy with his own hand, of which he drank 
off a wine-glassful, and pointing to me, said: 

“Give his honor some.” 


THE CAPTAIls’S • DAUGHTER. 


81 


Shvabrin approached me with the tray, but again I turn- 
ed away from him. He did not seem at his ease; with 
his usual sagacity, he at once guessed that Poogatchoff 
was displeased with him. He felt alarmed, and looked 
distrustfully at me. 

Poogatchoff asked about the affairs of the fortress, of 
the rumors respecting the enemy’s army, and so on. Tlien 
suddenly broke out: 

Tell me, my good fellow, who the young girl is you 
are keeping a prisoner here? Bring her to me.” 

Shvabrin turned as pale as death. 

“ Your majesty,” said he in a trembling voice — your 
majesty, she is not a prisoner: she is ill — lying in bed in 
the garret.” 

‘‘ Take me to her, then,” said Poogatchoff, rising. 

There was no possibility of gainsaying him. Shvabrin 
led him to Mary’s room. 1 followed them. Shvabrin 
stopped short on the stairs. ‘‘Your majest)%” said he,. 
“ has a right to exact from me whatever you wish, but do 
not allow a stranger to enter my wife’s bedroom.” 

I trembled. 

“So you are married?” said I to Shvabrin, ready to 
tear him to pieces. 

“Gently!” interrupted Poogatchoff. “This is my af- 
fair. As to you,” continued he, turning to Shvabrin, 
“ don’t try to deceive me; whether she is your wife or 
not, I will take in whom I please. Follow me, your 
honor.” 

At the door Shvabrin stopped once more, saying in 
broken accents: 

“ Sire, I warn you that she has brain-fever and this is 
the third day that she is delirious.” 

“ Open the door!” shouted Poogatchoff. 

Shvabrin began feeling his pockets, and said he had 
forgotten the key. 

Poogatchoff kicked the door, which gave way, and we 
entered. 

I gazed, and was horror-struck. On the floor, in a tat- 
tered peasant’s dress, sat Mary, so pale, thin, and worn; 
her hair disheveled, her glance despairing. A jug of 
water with a piece of bread was by her side. 

At the sight of me she trembled and uttered a cry. I 
cannot recollect what happened next. 


82 THE captain's daughter. 

Poogatchoff scowled at Slivabrin, and said with a bitter 
sn)ile: 

‘‘A nice hospital this!" He then approached Marj, 
saying, ‘‘ Tell me, my dear, why does your husband 
punish you? What have you done?" 

*‘My husband!" she repeated. ‘^He is not my hus- 
band'; I will never be his wife! I prefer death, and will 
die, if no one rescues me." 

Poogatchoff looked threateningly at Shvabrin. 

And so you have dared to deceive me?" said he. Do 
yon know what you deserve, you scoundrel?" 

Shvabrin fell on his knees. At this moment contempt 
deadened in me every other feeling of hatred and anger. 
I beheld with disgust this man, a gentleman, lying at the 
feet of a rebel Cossack. 

“’Poogatchoff was softened. 

forgive you this once," he said to Shvabrin; but 
remember that this outrage will be brought home to you 
at your next offense.*' 

He then turned to Mary, and said kindly: ^‘Rise, fair 
damsel, you are free. I am the Emperor." 

Mary looked up quickly at him, and feeling convinced that 
the murderer of her parents stood before her, covered her 
face with her hands and fell senseless on the floor. I rushed 
to her assistance, when at that moment in came Palashka, 
my old acquaintance, and began to soothe her young mis- 
tress. 

'‘Well, your honor," said Poogatchoff laughing, "after 
all, we have delivered your fair one. Don't you think we 
ought to send for the priest, and make him perform the 
marriage ceremony for his niece? I will give her away, 
and Shvabrin will be best man. We will feast and drink, 
and lock the gates." 

What I dreaded took place. Shvabrin, hearing Poogat- 
oh off’s proposal, lost all command over himself. "Your 
majesty," he shouted, quite beside himself, "I certainly 
am to blame, for I told you a lie; but Grinioff is also de- 
ceiving you. The young girl is not the priest's niece, but 
the daughter of the captain who was hanged the day you 
took the fortress. 

Poogatchoff darted a fiery look at me. 

"How now?" he asked in amazement. 

"Shvabrin speaks the truth," I answered firmly. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER, 8S 

‘'You had not told me this,” remarked Poogatcli off, 
his face darkening. 

“Consider for a moment,” I replied. “ Was it possible 
to explain this before your soldiers? Had I told them 
Captain Mironoff’s daughter was alive they would have 
torn her in pieces; nothing could have saved her.” 

“That’s true,” said Poogatchoff laugliing. “My 
drunken fellows would not have spared the poor girl. The 
priest’s wife did well to dupe them.” 

“ Hear me,” I went on, seeing his good humor; “I do 
not know, nor do I wish to know, how I am to address 
you; but God is my witness that I would willingly lay 
down my life for you, to repay you all you have done for 
me; only do not ask me to do what is against my honor 
and conscience. You are my benefactor. Finish as you 
have begun; let me and the poor orphan girl go where 
God may lead us; and, wherever you are, whatever may 
haj)pen to you, we will pray daily for the salvation of your 
sinful soul.” 

Poogatchoff’s hard heart seemed touched. 

“Be it as you wish,” said he. “When I punish, I 
punish; and when I give, I give freely; such is my custom. 
Take your fair one, go where you please, and may God 
give you love and happiness.” 

Upon this he turned to Shvabrin, ordering him to 
write me a passport for all the fortresses and gates which 
were in his power. Shvabrin, quite dnmfounded, 
stood as though petrified. Poogatchoff went to inspect 
the fortress; Shvabrin accompanied him; I stayed behind 
under pretext of preparing for my journey. 

I ran upstairs. The door was unlocked. I knocked. 

“Who is there?” asked Palashka. 

I told her my name. Mary’s sweet voice was heard 
from within. 

“ Wait a little, Mr. Grinioff; I am changing my dress. 
Go to the priest’s; I will be there directly.” 

I obeyed, and went to Father Gheracim’s. He and his 
wife ran out to meet me. Savielitcli had already informed 
them of my arrival. 

“How do you do, Mr. Grinioff?’^ said the priest’s wife. 
“ God has permitted us to meet again. But do tell me, 
my good sir, how you managed to bo on such friendly 
terms with Poogatchoff? How comes it that he has not 


84 THE captain’s daughter. 

yet killed you? We may at least be thankful to the wretch 
for this.” 

Hold your tongue, old woman,” interrupted the priest. 

Don’t let out everything you happen to know. There 
is no wisdom in a multitude of words. My dear Mr. 
Grinioff, do come in; you are most welcome.” 

The priest’s wife brought out all the good things she 
had in the house, her chatter never ceasing. She told 
him that Shvabrin had forced them to give Mary up to 
him, but that she was in constant communication with 
them through the medium of Palashka, a sharp girl, who 
could make most people dance to any tune she liked. It 
was she who had advised Mary to write to me. I, in my 
turn, briefly related all that had befallen me. The priest 
and his wife repeatedly crossed themselves. When they 
heard that Poogatchofl was acquainted with the deceit 
they had practiced on him, ‘‘God help us!” said the 
priest’s wife. “ May all danger be averted from us! As 
to Shvabrin, there’s a wretch for you.” 

At this moment the door opened, and Mary came in 
with a smile on her pale face. She no longer wore her 
peasant’s dress, but was, as usual, dressed simply and be- 
comingly. I seized her hand, and for a long time was 
unable to speak; we were both silent, because our hearts 
were too full for words. The priest and his wife left us, 
feeling we did not want them just then. 

We talked and talked as if we could never say enough 
to each other. Mary told me all that had happened to 
her since the taking of the fortress; described all the 
horrors of her position, all the misery to which that 
abominable Shvabrin had subjected her. We also spoke 
about the happy times now past. We both wept. 

At length I began to tell her my plans for the future. 
It would be impossible to leave her in the fortress, which 
was in Poogatchoff’s power; and quite as impossible to 
think of Orenburg, suffering as it was all the horrors of a 
siege. She had not a single relative on earth. I pro- 
posed that she should go to my parents. At first she hes- 
itated; my father’s well-known disapproval of our mar- 
riage frightened her. I .quieted her scruples. I knew 
that my father would consider it a pleasant duty to receive 
the daughter of a brave officer, who had died for his 
country. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


85 


Dear Mary,” I said at last, look on you as my 
wife. Strange and wonderful events have united us for 
ever.” 

Mary heard me without any assumed shyness or ingen- 
ious excuses; she felt that her fate was linked to mine, 
but she repeated that she could only Idc my wife with the 
consent of my parents. I did not contradict her in this. 
We embraced fervently and sincerely, and thus everything 
was settled between us. It was not very long before the 
under-officer brought me the promised passport, signed 
with Poogotchoff’s illegible scrawl. He summoned me to 
his presence. I found him ready for his return journey. 
I cannot express what my feelings were whilst taking leave 
of this much-dreaded man, who appeared a villain, a 
monster to every one but me. Why not confess the truth? 
A strong and strange sympathy attracted me to him at 
that moment. I heartily wished I could take him from 
the gang of ruffians whose leader he was, and save hint 
while there was yet time from his inevitable fate. Shva- 
brin, and those who surrounded us, prevented my speaking 
out frankly all that oppressed and filled my heart. 

We parted in a most friendly way. 

Poogatchoffi, who had remarked the priest’s wife in the 
crowd, winked knowingly and shook his finger at her, 
then took his seat in the keeheetka, ordered the coachman 
to drive to Berda, and when the horses started he once 
more looked out of the keebeetka, shouting to me, “ Good- 
by, your honor! Perhaps we may meet again some day.” 

We did meet again, but under what circumstances! 

Poogatchoff was gone. For a long while 1 stood and 
gazed across the snow-covered steppes over which his 
troika was flying. The crowd dispersed. Shvabrin dis- 
appeared. I returned to the priest’s house. All was ready 
for our departure. I would not tarry any longer. Our 
goods and chattels were packed in the poor commandant’s 
carriage. The postboy soon harnessed the horses, whilst 
Mary went to take a last farewell of her parent’s grave. 
I wished to accompany her, but she asked me to let her 
go alone. She returned in a few moments, shedding 
tears. The carriage drew up to the door; there were 
three of us to occupy the inside — Mary, myself, and Pa- 
lashka. Savielitch scrambled on the box. 

^'Farewell, my dear Miss Mary! Our bright sunshine! 


80 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


Good-by, Mr. Griiiioff,” said the good-natured priest’s 
wife. ‘‘ A safe journey, and may God bless you botfi!” 

We rolled away. At the window of the commandant’s 
house I saw Shvabrin; his face expressed a gloomy ani-^ 
mosity. 1 did not wish to triumph over a fallen enemy, 
so turned my face away. At length we drove through 
the gates and left the Bielogorski fortress for ever. 


CHAPTER XTII. 

THE ARREST. 

Finding myself so unexpectedly united to the dear giri 
on whose account I had been that very morning in such 
anxiety, I could hardly believe my senses, and felt as if 
\yhat had happened to me was but an empty droain. Mary 
looked pensively, now at me, now at the road before her, 
seeming unable to collect her thoughts and realize her 
position. We were silent. Our hearts were full of dreamy 
lassitude. Without noticing it, we found ourselves in about 
two hours’ time close to the neighboring fortress, which 
was also in Poogatchoff’s possession. Here we stopped to 
change horses. I soon guessed, by the alacrity shown in 
putting fresh horses to the carriage, by the ready ofticious- 
ness of the bearded Cossack who had been appointed com- 
mandant of the place by Poogatchoff, that, thanks to the 
chattering post-boy who had driven us, we were received 
like court favorites. We continued our journey. Dusk 
came on; we approached a small town, where, the bearded 
commandant assured us, was stationed a strong detach- 
ment ready to join the impostor’s army. 

The sentry stopped us, and to the question, ‘‘ AYho goes 
there?” the post-boy answered with a shout: 

“ The Emperor’s friend with his young wife.” 

Suddenly a crowd of hussars surrounded the carriage,. 
using the most abusive and threatening language. 

Get out, you devil’s friend!” said a whiskered sergeant 
to me. “ Wait a bit, you’ll soon have a nice hot bath 
with your lady!” 

I got out of the keebeetha, desiring them to take me to 
their commander. On seeing an officer the soldiers stop- 


THE CAPTAIis’S DAUGHTER. 


87 


ped their abuse. They led me into the major’s presence, 
Savielitch followed me closely, muttering to himself: 
^‘The Emperor’s friend! Here’s a pretty go! Out of 
one mess into a worse one still. Lord have mercy! How 
will it end?” 

The heebeetha followed us at a slow pace. 

Five minutes later we came to a small house which was 
brightly lit up. The sergeant left me with the sentry, 
whilst he went in to announce me. He returned almost 
immediately, saying that the major was not at liberty to 
see me, but had ordered me to be put in prison, but that 
my wife was to be led into his presence. 

‘MVhat does he mean?” I screamed in a fury. Is he 
mad ?” 

I don’t know, your honor,” answered the sergeant, 
^‘but his orders are that you go to prison and that her 
ladyship be brought to him.” 

I rushed up the steps — the sentry never thought of 
stepping me — and I ran straight into a room where five 
or six hussar officers were playing at faro. The major 
was banker. What was my astonishment when I recog- 
nised in him Mr. John Zourine, who had once taught me 
how to play at billiards and won a large sum of money 
from me at the Simbirsk tavern. 

Is it possible?” I exclaimed. Mr. Zourine, is that 
you ?” 

Bah! bah! It is Mr. Grinioff! How came you here? 
nnd where from? Welcome, old fellow! Will you try 
your luck at cards?” 

Thank you, but first order a lodging to be given 
me.” 

What do you want a lodging for? Stay here with 

•us.” 

‘‘I cannot; I am not alone.” 

Well, then bring your friend with you.” 

** It is not a man; it is — a lady.” 

A lady! Where did you find her — eh, old boy?” 

With these words, Zourine whistled in so significant a 
manner that every one roared, whilst I grew quite con- 
fused. 

Well,” went on Zourine, ‘Hhen there’s no help for it. 
You shall have a lodging. It’s a pity though — we should 
have had such a jolly time of it, as in the old days. Hallo, 


88 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


there! Why don’t they bring in Poogutchofl’s friend? 
Is she obstinate? Tell her she has nothing to fear — that 
the gentleman is a nice one, and does not mean to offend 
her in any way. Give her a good push!” 

What’s the matter?” I said to him. It is no friend 
of Poogatchoff’s, but Captain Mironoff’s daughter. I 
rescued her from captivity, and am now taking her to my 
parents.” 

^^How is this? Then it must be you that they told me 
of. But what does it all mean?” 

‘‘Presently I will explain; but, for God’s sake, first re- 
assure the poor girl, whom your hussars have nearly 
frightened to death.” 

Zourine gave the necessary orders without delay, and 
went himself to apologize to Mary for his involuntary mis- 
take, and ordered the sergeant to procure the best lodging 
in the town for her. I spent the night with him. 

We supped, and when we were left to ourselves I told 
him the whole of my story. Zourine listened with pro- 
found attention, but when I had finished he shook his 
head, saying: 

“ It’s all very well, old fellow, except for one thing; 
what the deuce do you want to get married for? Believe 
me when I assure you that marriage is all nonsense. How 
in the world will you manage a wife and children? Take 
my advice and give the young lady up. The road to Sim- 
birsk has been cleared by my soldiers, and is now perfectly 
safe; send her on to-morrow by herself, and 3^ou can re- 
main with my regiment. It is useless for you to return 
to Orenburg. If you fall into the rebels’ power again, it’s 
ten to one you won’t get out of it so easily as before. This 
love affair will be ended, and all will be set right.” 

Although I was not quite of his opinion, yet I felt that 
I was in honor bound to stay in the ranks of Ihe Empress’s 
army. I made up my mind to follow Zourine’s advice, 
and send Mary to my parents, and remain myself with his 
regiment. Savielitch came to my room; I told him that 
he must be ready next morning to accompany Miss Miron- 
off on his journey. At first he was very obstinate. 

“ What do you mean, sir? How can I leave you? WIjo 
is to wait on you? And what will your parents say to 


THE CAPTAIK’S DAUGHTER. 89 

I knew how headstrong he could be, and therefore tried 
to persuade him by kindness. 

“My dear old friend,^’ I said to him, “don’t refuse 
what I ask. I shall not want any attendance, and shall be 
most anxious if Mary goes without you. In serving her 
you serve me also, for I {im resolved to marry her as soon 
as circumstances will permit.” 

At this Savielitch wrung his hands with a look of inde- 
scribable amazement. 

“Marry!” repeated he. “The boy wants to get mar- 
ried! What will your father say?” 

“He will consent, I feel sure of that,” I answered; 

once they learn to know Mary, they will love her. I 
rely on you too; my parents have faith in you; you will 
be our friend, will you not?” 

The old man was touched. 

“ Oh, my dear Master Peter,” he replied, “though you 
are much too young to think of marrying, I must say she 
is a sweet young lady, and it would be a sin to let such a 
chance slip through your fingers. Let it be as you wish. 
I will accompany your angel, and if you will allow your 
serf to say so, such a bride needs no dowry.” 

I thanked Savielitch, and went to sleep in Zourine’s 
room. Agitated and feverish, I became talkative. At 
first Zourine conversed with me willingly, but by degrees 
his words grew scarce and incoherent, and at last all I 
got for answer to some questions was a snore and a whis- 
tle. I stopped talking and soon followed his example. 

The next day I- saw Mary and told her of my plans, 
which she thought wise, and quite agreed with me. Zou- 
rine’s regiment was to leave the town that very day; there 
was no time to lose, and I took leave of Mary, giving her 
a letter to my parents, and confiding her to the care of 
Savielitch. 

“Farewell,” she said in a low voice. “God alone 
knows whether we shall ever meet again, but I shall never 
forget yon, and to the end of my life will love no other.” 

I could say nothing; we were surrounded by servants, 
and in their presence I did not wish to give way to the 
feelings which agitated me. At length we parted, and 
she was gone. I went back to Zourine, quite sad and 
silent. He tried to cheer me, and I did my best to forget 


90 


THE captain's DArGHTER. 


my troubles. We spent a noisy day, and in the ev,Qning 
began our march. 

It was now the end of February. The winter, which 
had hindered military operations, was breaking up, and 
our generals were preparing for a friendly co-operation. 

Poogatchoff still held a strong position near Orenburg. 
Meanwhile different tribes flocked round his standard. 
At the approach of our army the rebel villages were re- 
duced to submission; gangs fled before us and everything 
foretold a happy and speedy termination. Shortly after 
this. Prince Galitzin defeated Poogatchoff, dispersed liis 
mob, liberated Orenburg, and had, it would seem, put a 
final stroke to the rebellion. Zourine was at this time 
ordered to pursue a force of rebel Bashkirs, who, however, 
dispersed before we even caught sight of them. Spring 
suddenly came on and overtook ns in a Tartar village. 
The snow and ice melting, the rivers overflowed; the 
roads were impassable. We consoled ourselves during 
our inaction by thinking we should shortly see the end 
of this troublesome war, carried on against robbers and 
barbarians. 

But Poogatchoff was not caught; he appeared in Siberia, 
gathered fresh gangs, and began his misdeeds again. 
Eumors of his successes went the round once more. We 
heard the news of the destruction of the Siberian fortresses, 
and shortly after it was said that the impostor had taken 
Kasan, and was on his way to Moscow. This alarmed 
tlie heads of the army, who had been lulled by the hope 
that the villain would surrender of his own accord. 

I will not describe our march and the end of the war; 1 
will merely mention that the general calamity reached its 
climax. Administration was paralyzed. Landowners hid 
in the forests, and the gangs of rebels perpetrated their 
crimes throughout the country. Tlie commander of each 
corps pardoned and punished arbitrarily; the state of the 
country where the scourge reigned was terrible. God 
save us from ever witnessing again such a senseless and 
merciless Russian rebellion! 

Poogatchoff fled, pursued by General Michleson. Short- 
ly after, we heard of his total defeat, and Zourine received 
news of the impostors capture, and with it orders to halt. 
The war being over, I was allowed at length to go home 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


91 


to my parents. The tliought of embracing them, of see- 
ing Mary, of whom I had no news whatever, sent me into 
ecstasies of delight; I danced round the room likeachild. 
Zourine laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and said: ‘‘ You 
will come to no good; you will marry — and go to the 
devil.” 

But a strange feeling poisoned my joy. Thoughts of 
the villain whose hands were stained with the blood of so 
many innocent victims, and of the death which certainly 
awaited him, involuntarily troubled me. ‘‘ Oh, Poogat- 
choff!” thought I, with regret, why were you not killed 
by a bayonet’s thrust, or even shot? You could not have 
chosen a better end.” In vain I tried to forget him; the 
remembrance of him was inseparable from that of his great 
goodness in delivering Mary from the power of the odious 
Shvabrin. Zourine gave me leave of absence. A few 
days more and I should find myself in the bosom of my 
family, when suddenly an unexpected storm burst over 
me. On the day fixed for my departure, just as I was 
about to start, Zourine entered, holding a paper in his 
hand and wearing an anxious look. My heart misgave 
me; 1 was frightened, without knowing why. He sent my 
servant out of the room, saying he had something of im- 
portance to communicate. 

‘‘What is it?” I asked impatiently. 

“It is rather a disagreeable affair,” he answered, hand- 
ing me the -paper. “ Bead this; I have just received it.” 

It was a secret order to each commander, separately, to 
arrest me wherever I might be found, and to send me, 
well guarded, to Kasan, to the Commission of Inquiry 
which had been instituted for the investigation of Poogat- 
choff’s rebellion. 

The paper dropped from my hands. 

“ There’s no help for it,” said Zourine; “ it is my duty 
to obey the orders. No doubt rumors of your friendly 
journey with Poogatchoff have somehow got to the ears of 
the Government. I trust it will lead to no serious conse- 
quences, and that you will prove your innocence to the 
Commissioners. Don’t lose heart; and now go.” 

My conscience was clear; I did not fear the verdict; but 
the thought that the sweet reunion I had so longed for 
was delayed, perhaps for months, appalled me. The cart 


9^ THE captain's daughter. 

was ready; Zourine bade me a friendly good-by. I got 
into the cart. Two hussars sat near me with drawn 
swords; and we went on our way along the high-road. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TRIAL. 

I FELT convinced that the cause of all my misfortunes 
was my absence from Orenburg without leave. 1 could 
easily clear myself. Skirmishing, far from being for- 
bidden, was, on the contrary, strongly encouraged. I 
might be accused of exaggerated zeal, but not of willful 
disobedience. My friendly intercourse with Poogatchoff 
could be proved by numbers of witnesses, and must, to 
say the least, have excited strong suspicion. During my 
journey I thought over the questions which awaited me. 
I weighed my answers, and resolved to tell the whole 
truth, believing this to be the safest way of clearing my- 
self. 

I arrived in Kasan, which I found desolate and almost 
in ashes. Instead of houses, I saw heaps of charred 
wood, coals, and cinders lying about the streets; burnt 
walls stood up without roofs or windows. These were the 
traces Poogatchoff left of his passage! I was taken to the 
fortress, which had escaped destruction; I was given over 
to an officer, who ordered a blacksmith to rivet chains on 
my legs. I was then thrown into prison, and left in a 
dark, close hole, with nothing but bare walls and a small 
grated window. 

Such a beginning boded no good, but I did i\ot lose 
hope. I turned to the Consoler of the afflicted, and hav- 
ing tasted the sweetness of prayer sent up from a pure 
though troubled heart, I fell into a peaceful sleep without 
distressing myself about what would happen next. 

The next morning I was taken before the judge. Two 
soldiers led me through Hie yard to the commandant’s 
house, where I was ushered alone into the audience cham- 
ber. It was a spacious hall. Two men were sitting at a 
table covered with papers; an elderly general of cold, 
severe aspect, and a young, good-looking captain of the 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


93 


Guards. At another table, near the window, sat a clerk 
with a pen behind his ear, waiting, no doubt, to take down 
my depositions. The inquiry began. I was asked my 
name and rank. The general inquired whether I was the 
son of Mr. Andrew Grinioff, and on my answering in the 
affirmative, sternly remarked: 

“ A great pity that such a good man should have so 
worthless a son.” 

I calmly rejoined that, ^‘Whatever might be brouglit 
against me, I hoped to clear myself by an honest confession 
of the truth.” 

My cool manner displeased him. 

“You are deep, my man,” said he, frowning, “but we 
have seen deeper ones than you.” 

The young captain then asked: 

“Why and w4ien I had entered Poo^atchoff’s service, 
and what rank I held under him?” 

I indignantly replied that, “Being a gentleman and an 
officer, 1 could not enter Poogatchoffis service, or hold 
any post near his person.” 

“ How happens it then,” continued my interrogator, 
“ that a gentleman and an officer has been spared by the 
impostor, whilst all his comrades have been wickedly mur- 
dered? How is it that this same gentleman and officer 
feasts amicably with rebels, even receiving presents from 
the chief conspirator? What was the reason of this 
strange friendship, and what were its grounds, if not 
treason, or, to say the least, a degrading and criminal 
cowardice?” 

I felt deeply insulted by this speech, and began to de- 
fend myself warmly. I related how my acquaintance 
with Poogatckoff had begun during the snowstorm in the 
steppes; but that I defended the Bielogorski fortress 
against the villain to the last extremity. I could appeal 
to my general, who would testify to my zeal during the 
desperate assault of Orenburg. 

The severe-lookingold general took an open letter from 
the table and read as follows: 

“ In reply to your inquiries with respect to Lieut, Grinioff, who 
is suspected of being mixed up in the present rebellion, and to have 
come to an amicable understanding with the villain, contrary to his 
oath and duty, I have the honor to inform you that the said Lieu- 


94 


THE CAPTAIH’S DAUGHTER. 


tenant served in Orenburg from the beginning of October last year, 
1773, to the 34lh of February of the present year, on which clay he 
left the town without leave, and never since returned. We have 
heard from deserters that he paid a visit to Poogatchofif, who ac- 
companied him to the Bielogorski fortress, where he had previously 
been quartered.” 

Here he stopped reading, and said: What have you 
now to say in your defense?” 

I tried to continue my explanations as I had begun, and 
to confess my love for Mary as openly as I had told all the 
rest, but I suddenly felt jt most invincible repugnance to 
doing so. The thought that if I mentioned her name she 
might be called as witness, and the idea of mixing her up 
with the abominable denunciations of scoundrels and con- 
fronting her with them — all this so stunned me that I 
stammered and seemed dumfounded. 

My judges, who were apparently beginning to listen to 
my explanations with some interest, became prejudiced 
against me when they noticed my confusion. The officer 
of the Guards then ordered me to be confined with my 
chief accuser. The general told them to bring in yester- 
day’s villain.” 

I turned quickly toward the door, impatiently awaiting 
my accuser. 

In a few moments there was the sound of chains rat- 
tling, the door opened, and in came — Shvabrin. I was 
quite astonished at the change in him. He looked fear- 
fully pale and emaciated. His hair, which had been jet- 
black, had turned white, his long beaTd was matted. He 
repeated his accusations in a weak but resolute voice. 
He stated that I had been sent by Poogatchofif to Oren- 
burg as a spy; that I rode daily out of the town in order 
to give information of all that was going on within the 
walls; that, lastly, I went openly over to the impostor, 
accompanying him from one fortress to another. I 
listened to him in silence, and felt glad of one thing — 
Mary’s name had not been once uttered by this {fbomin- 
able wretch. Whether it was that his wounded pride 
sufifered at the thought of her who rejected him with 
sucli disdain, or whether there lurked in his heart one 
spark of the feeling that kept me silent; whatever it was, 
the name of the commandant’s daughter was never men- 
tioned. I resolved to be firm to my resolution, and when 


THE captain’s - DAUGHTER. 95 

niY judges asked me bow I could refute Shvabriu^s testi- 
mony, I replied that I adhered to my previous statement 
and had nothing further to say in my own defense. The 
genera! ordered me to be taken back to prison. We went 
out togetlier. I looked at 8hvabrin calmly, but did not 
speak a word to him. He smiled fiendishly at me, and 
lifting up his fetters, passed me with a hurried step. I 
went back to prison, and was never re-examined by the 
judge. I was not a witness to what I have still to relate, 
but I have heard it so often repeated that the veriest de- 
tails are deeply engraven on my memory and I almost 
feel I had been an invisible spectator of it all. 

* * *■*•** * 

Mary had been welcomed by my parents with the sin- 
cere cordiality which characterizes all old-fashioned people. 

They looked on the opportunity now offered them of 
protecting a poor orphan girl as a blessing from God. 
They soon grew attached to her, for it was impossible to 
know her without loving her. My father ceased to con- 
sider my love for her mere nonsense, whilst my mother 
had but one wish, that her son should marry the captain’s 
charming daughter. 

The news of my arrest filled them all with dismay. 
Mary had related with such simplicity about my strange 
acquaintance with Poogatchoff that it not only failed to 
excite any apprehension on my account, but even made 
them laugh heartily over it. My father would not be- 
lieve that I could be mixed up in a rebellion whose aim 
was the overthrow of royalty and the extermination of 
the nobles. 

He questioned Savielitch minutely. My servant did 
not hide from him that I really had visited Poogatchoff, 
and that the ruffian seemed to have a liking for me, but 
swore on his oath that he never heard a word about trea- 
son. My parents were reassured, and waited impatiently 
for favorable news. Mary felt deeply troubled, but kept 
her own counsel, for she was cautious and retiring to a 
degree. 

Several weeks passed. Suddenly my father received a 
letter from St. Petersburg from a relation of ours. 
Prince 

The Prince spoke of me, after a few preliminary sen- 


THE CAPTA.T-N'’S DAUGHTER. 


fences, that the suspicions respecting me were unfort- 
unately but too well-founded— that I was condemned to 
be put to a fearful death in order that I might serve as an 
example to others. The Empress, howeyer, out of con- 
sideration for my father’s services and old age, resolved to 
be merciful to his criminal son, and save him from a 
felon’s death, and transport him for life to Siberia. This 
unexpected blow nearly killed my father; he lost his 
usual self-control, and poured out his grief in bitter com- 
plaints. 

^‘Oh!” repeated he, almost beside himself, ^Mny son a 
traitor! Good God! That I should live to know it! The 
Empress saves him from a felon’s death, as if that could 
lighten my burden of grief. Death in itself is not dread- 
ful; my grandfather died in defense of what he consid- 
ered a holy cause; my father suffered death with Volinsky; 
but my son is a traitor, and has joined a gang of robbers! 
Shanie on our name for ever!” 

My mother, frightened at his despair, dared not weep 
in his presence, and tried to cheer him by saying that re- 
ports were often untrue, and that the verdicts of mankind 
were often faulty. But my father refused to be con- 
soled. 

Mary suffered more than any one. She felt convinced 
that I might have cleared myself had I only chosen to do 
so. She guessed the truth, and looked upon herself as 
the cause of my misfortune. She hid her sorrow and her 
tears from all eyes, thinking all the while by what means 
she cbuld save me. One mefrning my father was sitting 
on the Sofia turning over the leaves of the Court Calendar, 
but his thoughts were running far and wide, and the book ' 
did not produce its usual effects. He whistled an old 
military march. My mother sat knitting in silence, and 
now and then tears dropped on her work. 

Suddenly, Maiy, who had been sitting near, also at . 
work, announced that she was compelled to go on a jour- 
ney to St. Petersburg, and asked them to give her the ~ 
means to go with. 

My mother was deeply grieved. 

What do you want to go there for?” she said. Oh, 
Mary! is it possible that you too want to abandon us?” 

Mary replied that her future happiness depended on 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 9? 

% 

this journey, that she was going as the daughter of an 
officer who had died for his Empress and country, to seek 
the protection and^iid of the strong and powerful.’^ 

My father hung his head; each word reminded him of 
his son’s supposed crime and was a stinging reproach to 
him. 

Go, by all means, my dear,” said he with a sigh; we 
will not stand in the way of your happiness: may God give 
you a good husband instead of a dishonorable traitor.” 

He rose and left the room. 

Left alone with my mother, Mary partly disclosed her 
jdans. My mother tearfully embraced her and prayed 
• that God might bless her undertaking. She supplied her 
with all necessaries for her journey, and in a few days 
Mary started, accompanied by the faithful Palashka and 
Savielitch, the latter, being separated from me against 
his will, found comfort in the idea that he was making 
himself useful to my future wife. 

Mary reached Sofia safely, and hearing that the Court 
was then staying at Tsarske-Selo, resolved to go there. 
A woman who had entered into conversation with her told 
her that she was the niece of a man who lighted the stoves 
in the palace, and initiated her in all the mysteries of 
Court life. She told her at what hour the Empress took 
her walk in the morning, when she had breakfast, what 
noblemen were with her, what she had talked about dur- 
ing yesterday’s dinner, and whom she had received in the 
evening. In a word, Mrs. Ann’s conversation was deserv- 
ing of several pages of historical memoirs, and might have 
been prized by posterity. Mary listened eagerly. They 
went together into the palace grounds, where Mrs. Ann 
told a history about each alley and bridge; after a long 
walk they returned home and were on the best possible 
terms. • 

Early the next morning Mary rose, dressed herself, and 
went out into the^ gardens. The morning was lovely. 
The sun shone on the tops of the lime-trees, on whose 
leaves the fresh breath of autumn had already spread a 
yellowish tint. The wide smooth lake glittered; the 
swans, just awake from their slumbers, swam majestically 
from under the bushes by the shore. Mary approached a 
lawn, on which a monument had lately been erected in 
honor of the victories of Count Roomiantzoff. 4H£i-tonce 

4 


08 


THE CAPTAIH’s DAUGHTER. 


a small white dog, of English breed, barked and ran to- 
ward her, and at the same moment a woinan’s pleasant 
voice was. heard : n 

‘‘ Don’t be afraid, she will not bite you/’ 

And Mary perceived a lady sitting on a bench in front 
of the monument. Mary sat down at the other end of the 
seat. The lady looked at her attentively, and Mary hav- 
ing thrown a few sidelong glances, managed to examine 
her from head to foot. She wore a white morning wrap- 
per and a lace cap; she looked about forty; her full rosy 
face wore a calm, majestic expression, whilst her blue eyes 
and sweet smile were inexpressibly charming. 

The lady was the first to break silence. 

I presume you are a stranger here?” said she. 

Yes; ’twas but yesterday I arrived from the provinces.” 

‘‘ You came with relatives?” 

‘‘No, I came alone.” 

“ Alone! But you are so young!” 

“ I have neither father nor mother.” 

“ I suppose you have come on business of some kind?” 

“Yes, exactly; I came to present a petition to the 
Empress.” 

“ You are an orphan; I suppose you have complaints to 
make against injustice and persecution.” 

“ No, I came to seek mercy, not justice.” 

“ Allow me to ask who you are?” 

“ I am the daughter of the late Captain Mironoff.” 

“ Captain Mironoff! The same who was commandant 
in one of the Orenburg fortresses?” 

“Just so.” 

The lady seemed touched. 

“ Excuse me,” said she, and her voice grew very soft; 
^ “ excuse me if I meddle in your affairs, but I am often at 
Court, and may be of help to you, if you will explain to 
me the nature of your petition.” 

Mary rose and thanked her in a respectful manner. 
Everything in this unknown lady irresistibly attracted her 
and inspired confi(*lence. Mary took a paper from her 
pocket and presented it to her unknown friend, who be- 
gan silently to read it. 

At first she read with a look of attention and benev- 
olence, but suddenly a change came over her face — and 


THE^ captain’s DAUGHTER. 


99 


Mary, whose eyes followed her every movement, was 
frightened at the severity of its expression, which before 
had been so sweet.” 

Yon plead for Griniolf!” said the lady, coldly. ‘‘ The 
Empress can never pardon him. He joined the impostor, 
not from ignorance or credulity, b^il as an immoral and 
worthless wretch.” 

Oh, it is not true!” answered Mary. 

Not true?” repeated tlie lady, growing crimson, 

* ^‘It is false; I swear to you that is false! I know all, 
and will tell you the truth: it was for my sake only that 
ho exposed himself to the misfortunes that have befallen 
him, and if he did not clear himself before his judges, 
it was only because he would not implicate me in this 
business.” 

Here she warmly related all that the reader already 
knows. 

The lady listened attentively. 

‘‘Where are you lodging?” she then asked, and on 
hearing that it was at Mrs. Ann’s she said with a smile, 
“Ah, I know; good-by, do not mention this meeting to 
any one. I hope you will not have long to- wait for an 
answer to your letter.” 

AVith this she disappeared down a shaded avenue, 
whilst Mary went back to Mrs. Ann’s full of joyful hope. 

Her hostess scolded her for this early autumnal walk, 
which, to her way of thinking. Was very bad for a young 
girl’s health. She brought in the urn and was drinking 
her first cup of tea, having again commenced her ever- 
lasting stories about Court life, when, all at once a royal 
carriage stopped at the door, and a footman in the Em- 
press’s livery came with a message that his royal mistress 
wished to see Miss Mironoff. 

Mrs. Ann was astounded and fussed about a great deal. 
“ Good gracious!” exclaimed she, “the Empress invites 
you to Court! How in the world did she ever hear of 
you? And how will you present yourself to Her Majesty, 
my dear? I am sure you won’t even know how to walk 
as you ought at Court. I had better accompany you; I 
might at least give you a little advice. And then you 
cannot go .in a traveling dress! I will run and ask a 
friend of mine fc lend you her yellow silk,” 


100 


THE CAPTAIi^'S DAUGHTER. 


The footman assured them that it was the Empress’s 
wish that Miss Mironoff should go as she was. There was 
no help for it. Mary took her seat in the carriage fol- 
lowed by Mrs. Ann’s injunctions and blessings. 

Mary had a presentiment tha?fe the decision of our fate 
was at hand; her hear;! first throbbed with hope, then 
trembled with fear. In a few moments the carriage 
.stopped at the palace. Mary mounted the staircase with 
trepidation. The doors flew open before her as she passed 
through many spacious but empty rooms; the footman led 
the way. At last, coming to a closed door, he said he 
would go and announce her arrival, and left her alone. 

The thought of seeing the Empress face to face so 
awed her that it was wdth difficulty she could stand, her 
legs almost giving way from excitement. The next mo- 
ment the doors opened and she stepped into the Empress’s 
boudoir. The Empress was sitting at her toilet table; 
several people of her suite surrounded her, and respect- 
fully made way for Mary to pass. The Empress turned 
to her graciously, and Mary recognized in her the lady to 
whom she had opened her heart but a short time before. 
The Empress told her to draw nearer, adding with a 
smile: 

I am glad to be able to grant your petition and keep 
my promise to you. The matter is ended; I am convinced 
of the innocence of your betrothed; here is a letter, which 
please take the trouble to deliver personally into the hands 
of your future father-in-law.” 

Mary took the letter with trembling fingers, and 
bursting into tears, fell at the Empress’s feet, who raised 
and kissed her. The Empress then said: 

‘‘ I know you are not rich, but I owe a heavy debt to 
Captain Mironoft’s daughter. Do not trouble about the 
future, it will be my pleasure to provide for you.” 

After lavishing many caresses and kind words on the 
poor orphan girl, the Empress dismissed her. Mary 
went back in the same royal carriage. Mrs. Ann, who 
bad awaited her return with impatience, overwhelmed her 
with questions, to which Mary answered at random. Mrs. 
Ann, though somewhat annoyed at her bad memory, as- 
scribed it to provincial shyness and generously .forgave 
her. 


THE captain’s DAUGHTER. 


101 


The same day, without so much as satisfying her curio- 
sity to see St. Petersburg, Mary started on her way back 
to the country. 


Mr. Peter Grinioff’s memoirs here come to an end. The 
family documents tell us that he was liberated from prison 
at the end of 1774 by the sovereign’s order, and that he 
witnessed the death of Poogatchoff, who recognized him 
among the crowd and nodded to him one moment before 
his lifeless and gory head was held up to the people. 

Shortly after this, Mary Mironoff was married to Mr, 
Peter Grinioff. Their descendants are thriving in the 

Simbirsk government. About 30 versts from is a 

village where, in a lordly mansion, may be seen the auto- 
graph letter of Catherine the Second, framed under a glass 
case. It is addressed to Andre\y Grinioff, and contains the 
pardon of his son and many praises of the goodness and 
intellect of Captain Miron off’s daughter. 


THE END. 


THE SEAf^TEE LTBEA71Y. — Ordinary Edition. n: 


MARY CECIL HAY’S WORKS.— Continued. 

27 Victor and Vanquished 30 

29 Nora’s Love Test 10 

421 Nora’s Love Test (in large type).. 20 

275 A Shadow on the Threshold 10 

363 Reaping the Whirlwind 10 

384 Back to the Old Home 10 

415 A Dark Inheritance 10 

440 The Sorrow of a Secret, and Lady Carmichael’s Will 10 

686 Brenda Y^orke " 10 

724 For Her Dear Sake 20 

853 Missing 10 

855 Dolf’s Big Brother 10 

930 In the Holidays, and The Name Cut on a Gate 10 

935 Under Life’s Key, and Other Stories 20 

972 Into the Shade, and Other Stories 20 

1011 My First Offer 10 

1014 Told in New England, and Other Tales 10 

1016 At the Seaside; or, A Sister’s Sacrifice 10 

1220 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

1221 Among the Ruins, and Other Stories 10 

1431 “A Little Aversion” 10 

1549 Bid Me Discourse. 10 


THOMAS HUGHES’ WORKS. 

492 Tom Brown’s Schooldays at Rugby 20 

598 The Manliness of Christ 10 

640 Tom Brown at Oxford 20 

1041 Rugby — Tennessee 10 


CHARLES LEVER’S WORKS, 

98 Harry Lorrequer 20 

132 Jack Hinton, the Guardsman 20 

187 A Rent in a Cloud 10 

146 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon (Triple Number) 80 

152 Arthur O’Leary 20 

168 Con Cregan 20 

169 St. Patrick’s Eve 10 

174 Kate O’Donoghue 20 

257 That Boy of Norcott’s 10 

296 Tom Burke of Ours. First half 20 

296 Tom Burke of Oui^. Second half 20 

819 Davenport Dunn. First half 20 

319 Davenport Dunn. Second half : 20 

464 Gerald Fitzgerald ....‘ 20 

470 The Fortunes of Gleucore 20 

629 Lord Kilgobbin 20 

546 Maurice Tiernay 20 

.666 A Day’s Ride 30 


X THE SEASIDE LTDn ARY. —Ordinary Edition. 


CHARLES LEYER’S WORKS.-Contiimed. 

609 Barrington 20 

633 Sir Jasper Carew, Knight 20 

657 The Martins of Cro’ Martin. Part I 20 

657 The Martins of Cro’ Martin. Part II.. 20 

822 Tony Butler 20 

872 Luttrell of Arran. Part 1 20 

872 Luttrell of Arran. Part II. 20 

951 Paul Gosslett’s Confessions 10 

965 One of Them. First half 20 

965 One of Them. Second half ’. 20 

989 Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Parti 20 

989 Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Part II 20 

1235 The Bramleighs of Bishop’s Polly 20 

1309 The Dodd Family Abroad. First half ! . . . 20 

1309 The Dodd Family Abroad. Second half 20 

1342 Horace Templeton 20 

1394 Roland Cashel. First half 20 

1394 Roland Cashel. Second half 20 

1496 The Daltons; or. Three Roads in Life. First half. 20 

1496 The Daltons; or. Three Roads in Life. Second halt 20 


SAMUEL LOYER’S WORKS. 

33 Handy Andy 20 

66 Rory O’More 20 

123 Irish Legends 10 

158 He Would be a Gentleman 20 

293 Tom Crosbie 10 


SIR BULWER LYTTON’S WORKS. 

• 6 The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

587 Zauoni 20 

689 Pilgrims of the Rhine 10 

714 Leila; or. The Siege of Grenada 10 

781 Rieuzi, The Last of the Tribunes 20 

955 Eugene Aram 20 

979- Ernest Maltravers 20 

1001 Alice; or, The Mysteries 20 

1064 The Caxtous^ 20 

1089 My Novel. Pirsfhalf 20 

1089 My Novel Second half : 20 

1205 Kenelm Chillingly: His Adventures and Opinions 20 

1316 Pelham; or, The Adventures of a Gestleman 20 

1454 The I^ast of the Barons. First half 20 

1454 The Last of the Barons. Second half 20 

1529 A Strange Stoiy 20 

1690 What Will He Do With It? First half 20 

1690 Wi5j?‘ Will He Do With It? Second half. . . = . . . 


THE SEASIDE L IBRA R Y. - Onlinm^y Edition. xt 


T. B. MACAULAY’S WOIIKS. 

926 The Lays of Ancient Rome, and Other Poems 10 

976 History of England. Part T 20 

976 History of England. Part II 20 

976 History of England.. Part III 20 

976 History of England. ' Part IV 20 

976 History of England. Part V 20 

976 History of England. Part VI 20 

976 History of England. Part VII 20 

976 History of England. Part VIII 20 

976 History of England. Part IX 20 

976 History of England. Part X 20 

GEORGE MACDONALD'S WORKS. 

455 Paul Fabcv, Surgeon 20 

491 Sir Gibbie 20 

595 The Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood ; 20 

606 The Seaboard Parish 20' 

627 Thomas Wingfold, Curate 20 

643 The Vicar’s Daughter 20 

668 David Elginbrod 20 

677 #St. George and St. Michael. ^ 20 

790 Alec Forbes of Howglen 20 

887 Malcolm 20 

922 Mary Marston 20 

938 Guild Court. A London Story 20 

948 The Marquis of Lossie 20 

962 Robert Falconer 20 

1375 Castle Warlock: A Homely Romance 20 

1439 Adela Cathcart -. . 20 

1466 The Gifts of the Child Christ, and' Other Tales ; 10 

1488 The Princess and Curdic. A Girl’s Story ; . . . . 10 

1498 Weighed and Wanting 20 

E. MARLITT’S WORKS. * 

453 The Princess of the Moor 20 

522 The Countess Gisela.. 20 

636 In the Schillingscourt 20 

866 The Second Wife 20 

878 In the Counselor’s House i'. 20 

1055 The Bailiff’s Maid 20 

1210 Old Mamselle’s Secret 20 

captain MARRYAT’S works. 

108 The Sea-King 10 

122 The Privateersman 10 

141 Masterman Ready 10 

147 Rattlin, the Reefer 10 

150 Mr. Midsliipman Easy 10 

156 The King’s Own. ... 10 


XTT THE SEAPTBE LTBE ARY.— Ordinary Edition. 


CAPTAIN MARRYAT’S WORKS.- Continued. 

159 The Phantom Ship 10 

163 Frank Mildmay 10 

170 Newton Forster 10 

173 Japhet in Search of a Father 20 

175 The Pacha of Many Tales 10 

176 Percival Keene 10 

185 The Little Savage 10 

192 The Three Cutters 10 

199 Settlers in Canada. 10 

207 The Children of the New Forest 10 

266 Jacob Faithful 10 

273 Snarley 3 ^ow, the Dog Fiend 10 

282 Poor Jack 10 

340 Peter Simple 20 

898 The Mission; or, Scenes in Africa 20 

1070 The Poacher 20 

1116 Valerie 20 

FLORENCE MARRYAT’S WORKS. 

110 The Girls of Feversham 10 

119 Petrouel 20 

197 “ No Intentions ” 20 

206 The Poison of Asps 10 

219 “MyOwn Child” 10 

305 Her Lord and Master 10 

323 A Lucky Disappointment 10 

426 Written in Fire 20 

533 Ange 20 

635 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

703 The Root of All Evil 20 

742 A Star and a Heart 10 

784 Out of His Reckoning 10 

820 The Fair-Haired Alda 20 

897 Love’s Conflict 20 

i038 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

lOG7 A Little Stepson 10 

1086 My Sister the Actress 20 

1349 Phyllida. A Life Drama 20 

1654 Facing the Footlights 20 

MISS MULOCK'S WORKS. 

2 John Halifax, Gentleman . 10 

456 John Halifax, Gentleman (large type) 20 

77 Mistress and Maid 10 

81 Christian’s Mistake — 10 

82 My jMother and I 10 

88 The Two Marriages 10 

91 The Woman’s Kingdom 20 

101 A Noble Life 10 

103 A Brave Lady i, m n n « i 


THE SEASTVE LTBHA li T. - Ordinary Edition. xm 


MISS MIJLOCK’S WORKS.— Continued. 

121 A Life for a Life 20 

130 Sermons Out of Church 10 

135 Agatha’s Husband 20 

142 The Head of the Family 20 

227 Hannah 10 

240 The Laurel Bush 10 

291 Olive 2C 

294 The Ogilvies 2C 

314 Nothing New 10 

320 A Hero 10 

330 A Low Marriage 10 

457 The Last of the Ruthvens. and The Self -Seer 10 

480 Avillion ; or, The Happy Isles 10 

626 Young Mrs. Jardine 10 

628 Motherless (Translated by Miss Mulock) 10 

752 The Italian’s Daughter 10 

773 The Two Homes 10 

804 A Bride’s Tragedy 10 

824 A Legacy * 20 

850 The Half Caste 10 

886 Miss Letty’s Experiences 10 

945 Studies from Life 10 

964 His Little Mother, and Other Tales 10 

978 A Woman’s Thoughts About Women 10 

1029 Twenty Years Ago. A Book for Girls. (Edited by Miss 

Mulock) 10 

1177 An Only Sister, Madame Guizot de Witt. (Edited by IVIiss 

Mulock) 10 

1261 Plain-Speaking 10 


MRS. OLIPHANT’S WORKS. 

136 Katie Stewart 10 

210 Young Musgrave 20 

391 The Primrose Path 20 

452 An Odd Couple 10 

475 Heart and Cross 10 

488 A Beleaguered City 10 

497 For Love and Life 20 

511 Squire Arden 20 

542 The Storv of Valentine and His Brother 20 

696 Caleb Field 10 

651 Madonna Mary 20 

665 The Fugitives 10 

680 The Greatest Heiress in England 20 

706 Earthbound 10 

775 The Queen (Illustrated) 10 

785 Orphans 10 

802 Phcebe, Junior. A Last Chronicle of Carlingford 20 

875 No. 3 Grove Road 10 


TIT THE SEA^TEE LTBJl ARY— Ordinary Edition. 


MRS. OLIPHANT'S WORKS.-Continued. 

881 He That Will Not When He May 20 

919 May 20 

959 Miss Marjoribanks. Part 1 20 

959 Miss Marjoribanks. Part II 20 

1004 Harry Joscelyn 20 

1017 Carita 20 

1049 In Trust 20 

1215 Brownlows 20 

1319 Lady Jane 10 

1396 Whiteladies 20 

1407 A Rose in June 10 

1449 A Little Pilgrim 10 

1547 It Was a Lover and His Lass 20 

1662 Salem Chapel 20 

1669 The Minister’s Wife. First half 2€ 

1669 The Minister’s Wife. Second half 20 


“OUIDA’S” WORKS. 

49 Granville de Vigne; or, Held in Bondage 20 

54 Under Two Flags 20 

55 In a Winter City 10 

56 Strathmore 20 

59 Chandos 20 

61 Bebee; or, Two Little. Wooden Shoes 10 

62 Folle-Farine 20 

71 Ariadne — The Story of a Dream 20 

181 Beatrice Boville 10 

211 Randolph Gordon 10 

230 Little Grand and the Marchioness 10 

241 ’Fricotrin 20 

'249 Cecil Castleraaine’s Gage 10 

279 A Leaf in the Storm, and Other Tales 10 

281 Lady Marabout’s Troubles 10 

334 Puck 20 

377 Friendship • 20 

379 Pascarel 20 

386 Sign a ^ 20 

389 Idalia 20 

563 A Hero’s Reward 10 

676 Umilta . - m 10 

699 Moths .*. 20 

791 Pipistrello 10 

864 Findelkind 10 

915 A Village Commune 20 

1025 The Little Earl 10 

1247 In Maremma 20 

1334 Bimbi 10 

1586 Frescoes 10 

1625 Wanda, Countess von Szalras ... • 20 


THE SEASIDE LTBRAnY.— (Minary FAlition. xy 


JAMES PAYN’S WORKS. 

138 What He Cost Her 10 

299 By Proxy 20 

345 Halves 10 

358 Less Black Than We’re Painted 20 

369 Found Dead 10 

382 Gwendoline’s Harvest 20 

401 A Beggar on Horseback 10 

406 One of the Family 20 

485 At Her Mercy 20 

502 Under One Roof (Illustrated) 20 

602 Lost Sir Massingberd 10 

646 Married Beneath Him 20 

687 Fallen Fortunes 20 

892 A Confidential Agent 20 

981 From Exile 20 

1045 The Clyffards of Clyffe 20 

1149 A Grape from a Thorn 20 

1193 High Spirits 10 

1267 For Cash Only 20 

1516 Kit; A Memory 20 

1524 Carlyon’s Year 10 

1652 A Woman’s Vengeance : 20 

CHARLES READE’S WORKS. 

4 A Woman-Hater 20 

19 A Terrible Temptation 10 

21 Foul Play 20 

24 “ It is Never Too Late to Mend ” i . . . 20 

31 Love Me Little, Love Me Long 20 

34 A Simpleton 10 

41 White Lies 20 

78 Griffith Gaunt ; 20 

86 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

112 Very Hard Cash 20 

203 The Cloister and the Hearth 20 

237 The Wandering Heir ; 10 

246 Peg Woffington 10 

270 The Jilt 10 

371 Christie Johnstone i . . . 10 

536 Jack of all Trades ! 10 

1204 Clouds and Sunshine 10 

1322 The Kni^htsbridge Mystery 10 

1390 Singleheart and Doubleface., A Matter-of-Fact Romance. . 10 

W. CLARK RUSSELL’S WORKS. 

848 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

1034 An Ocean Free Lance 20 

1339 The Wreck -of the “ Grosvenor ” 20 

1373 My Watch Below; or, Yarns Spun When Off Duty 20 

1381 Auld Lang Syne ‘ 10 

1467 The “ Lady Aland Schooner Yacht 20 

1663 A Sea Queen 20 


icvi THE SEASIDE LI BltARY. — Ordinary EdUion. 


SIR WALTER SCOTT’S WORKS. 

39 Ivanhoe 20 

183 Kenilworth 20 

196 Heart gf Mid-Lothian 20 

593 The Talisman 20 

723 Guy Mannering 20 

857 Waverley 20 

920 Rob Roy 20 

1007 Quentin Durward 20 

1082 Count Robert of Paris 20 

1275 Old Mortality 20 

1328 The Antiquary 20 

1399 The Pirate 20 

1462 The Betrothed: A Tale of the Crusaders, and The Chroni- 
cles of the Canongate 20 

1598 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the Eighteenth Century 20 

1701 The Monastery 20 

1702 The Abbot (Sequel to “ The Monastery ”) 20 

EUGENE SUE S WORKS. 

129 The Wandering Jew. First half 20 

129 The Wandering Jew. Second half 20 

205 The Mysteries of Paris. First half 20 

205 The Mysteries of Paris. Second half 20 

800 De Rohan; or, The Court Conspirator 20 

835 Arthur 20 

1030 The Commander of Malta 20 

1540 Martin the Foundling; or. The Adventures of a Valet de 

Chambre. Tol. 1 20 

1540 Martin the Foundling; or. The Adventures of aj Valet de 

Chambre. Vol. II 20 

1540 Martin the Foundling; or, The Adventures of a Valet de 

Chambre. Vol. Ill 20 

1590 Pride; or. The Duchess. First half 20 

1590 Pride; or. The Duchess. Second half 20 

WM. M. THACKERAY’S WORKS. 

559 Vanity Fair ; 20 

570 Lovel, the Widower 10 

580 Denis Duval 10 

582 Henry Esmond 20 

613 The Newcomes. Part 1 20 

613 The Newcomes. Part II 20 

624 The Great Hoggarty Diamond 10 

638 Pendennis. Parti 20 

638 Pendennis. Part II 20 

648 The Virginians. Parti 20 

648 The Virginians. Part II ' 20 

669 Adventures of Philip. Parti 20 

669 Adventures of Philip. Part II . 20. 

961 Barry Lyndon 10 

1697 Catherine; A Story. By Ikey Solomons, Esq., Junior,. 10 


THE SEASIDE Lhllt ARY.- Ordinary Edition. 


XVII 


ANTHONY TROLLOPE’S WORKS. 

12 The American Senator 20 

399 The Lady of Launay 10 

530 Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite » 20 

531 John Caldigate 10 

601 Cousin Henrv 10 

768 The Duke’s Children 20 

870 An Eye for an Eye 10 

910 Dr. Wortle’s School 10 

944 Miss Mackenzie 20 

1047 Ayala’s Angel 20 

1090 Barchester Towers 20 

1201 Phineas Finn. First half 20 

1201 Phineas Finn. Second half 20 

1206 Doctor Thorne. First half 20 

1206 Doctor Thorne. Second half 20 

1217 Lady Anna 20 

1255 Tlie Fixed Period 10 

1283 Why Frau Frohmann Raised Her Prices, and Otlier Stories 10 

1 292 Marion Fay 20 

1306 The Struggles of Brown, Jones & Robinson 20 

1318 OrleyFarm. First half 20 

1318 Orley Farm. Second half 20 

1348 The Belton Estate 20 

1419 Kept in the Dark 10 

1436 The Kellys and The O Kellys 20 

1450 J'he Two Heroines of Plumplington. . . . -. 10 

1455 The Maedermots of Ball 3 xloran 20 

1473 Castle Richmond . 20 

1486 Phineas Redux. First half 20 

1486 Phineas Redux. Second half 20 

1494 The Vicar of Bullhampton 20 

1511 Not If I Know It 10 

1551 Is He Popenjoy? 20 

1559 The Small House at Allington. First half 20 

1559 The Small House at Allington. Second half 20 

1567 The Last Chronicle of Barset. First half 20 

1567 The Last Chronicle of Barset. Second lialf 20 

1634 The Way We Live Now. Fii*sthalf 20 

1634 The Way We Live Now. Second half 20 

1656 Mr. Scarborough’s Family 10 

JULES VERNE’S WORKS. 

5 The Black-Indies ^0 

16 The English at the North Pole 4 O 

43 Hector Servadac 10 

57 The Castaways; or, A Voyage Round the World— South 

America 10 

00 The Castaways; or, A Voyage Round the World— Australia 10 
34 The Castaways; or, A Voyage Round the World— New 

Zealand 10 


XVIII THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. —Ordinary Edition. 


JULES VERNE’S WORKS. -Continued. 

68 Five Weeks in a Balloon 10 

72 Meridiana, and The Blockade Runners 10 

75 The Fur Country. Part I 10 

75 The Fur Country. Part II 10 

84 20,000 Leagues Under tlie Seas 10 

87 A Journey to tlie Centre of the Earth 10 

90 The Mysterious Island — Dropped from the Clouds 10 

93 The Mysterious Island — The Abandoned 10 

I 97 The Mysterious Island — The Secret of the Island 10 

j 99 From the Earth to the Moon 10 

111 A Tour of the World in Eighty Days 10 

131 Michael Strogoff 10 

1092 Michael Strogoff (large type, illustrated edition) 20 

414 Dick Sand; or, Captain at Fifteen. Part 1 10 

414 Dick Sand; or, Captain at Fifteen. Part II 10 

466 Great Voyages and Great Navigators. Part 1 10 

466 Great Voyages and Great Navigators. Part II 10 

466 Great Voyages and Great Navigators. Part 111 20 

505 The Field of Ice (Illustrated) 10 

510 The Pearl of Lima 10 

520 Round the Moon (Illustrated) 10 

634 The 500 ]M*il lions of the Begum .' 10 

647 Tribulations of a Chinaman 10 

673 Dr. Ox’s Experiment 10 

710 Survivors of the Chancellor 10 

818 The Steam-House; or, A Trip Across Northern India. 

Part I 10 

818 The Steam-House; or, A Trip Across Northern India. 

Part II 10 

1043 The Jangada; or. Eight Hundred Leagues over the 

Amazon. Part 1 10 

1043 The Jangada; or, Eight Hundred Leagues over the 

Amazon. Part II 10 

1519 Robinsons’ School 10 

1677 The Headstrong Turk. First half 10 

MRS. HENRY WOOD’S WORKS. 

1 East Lynne 10 

381 East Lynne (in large type) 20 

25 Lady Adelaide’s Oath 20 

37 The Mystery 10 

1125 The Mystery (large type edition) 20 

40 The Heir to Ashley 10 

45 A Life’s Secret 10 

52 The Lost Bank Note 10 

63 Dene Hollow 20 

65 The Nobleman’s Wife 10 

67 Castle Wafer, and Henry Arkell 10 

73 Bessy Rane 20 

74 Rupert Hall 10 


THE SEASIDE LlBJtAUY. — Ordinary Edition. xix 


MRS. HENRY WOOD’S WORKS.— Continued. 

83 Verner’s Pride 20 

92 Mrs. Halliburton’s Troubles 20 

106 The Master of Greylands 20 

115 Within the Maze • * • • 20 

124 Squire Trevlyn’s Heir 20 

143 The Haunted Tower 10 

220 Gffeorge Canterbury’s Will 20 

256 Lord Oakburn’s Daughters 20 

288 The Ohannings .‘ 20 

310 Roland Y'orke 20 

328 The Shadow of Ashlydyat 20 

349 Elster’s Folly 20 

357 Red Court Farm 20 

365 Oswald Cray 20 

373 St. Martin’s Eve 20 

443 Pomeroy Abbey 20 

467 Edina 20 

508 Orville College 20 

914 Johnny Ludlow. Part 1 20 

914 Johnny Ludlow. Part II 20 

/054 A Tale of Sin 10 

1076 Anne; or, The Doctor’s Daughter *. 10 

1094 Rose Lodge 10 

1117 Lost in the Post, and Other Tales T. 10 

A128 Robert Ashton’s AYedding Day. and Other Tales 10 

'166 Court Netherleigh 20 

For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, post- 
age free, on receipt of 12 cents for single numbers, and 25 cents for 
double numbers, by the publisher. Parties ordering by mail will 
please order by numbers. 

GEORGE MIJNRO, Piibliwlier, 

P.O.Box 3751. 17 to ‘^7 Vaudewatcr Street, New York. 



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150 For Himself Alone. By T. VV. Speight 1C 

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148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. By Author of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Trollope 20 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

145 God and the Man. By Robert Buchanan 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By Emile Gaboriau 10 

143 One False, Both Fair. By John B. Harwood 20 

142 Jenifer. By Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) 20 

141 She Loved Him. By Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune. By W alter Besant 10 

139 The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid. By Thos. Hardy. 10 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. By William Black 20 

137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 

136 “That Last Rehearsal.” By “The Duchess” 10 

135 A Great Heiress. ByR. E. Francillon . . r 10 

129 Rossmoyne. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 

122 lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn Linton 20 

121 Maid of Athens. By Justin McCarthy, 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. Adolphus Trollope. 10 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. Wightwick 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. By John Hill 20 

110 Under The Red Flag. By Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

109 Little Loo. By W. Clark Russell 20 

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